Hunter Spell
by dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: When Dumbledore hires three American Defense teachers, no one is sure what to think. Harry thinks that he's got more to worry about, with Voldemort on the loose and the Ministry in denial. But the Winchesters aren't normal Defense teachers, and Harry might have more help than he expects. AU Season 6 Supernatural and Book 5 OOTP Harry Potter.
1. Chapter 1: The New Defense Teachers

**Hunter Spell**

 _ **Author's Note:** Usually, I put these at the end of the chapter, but this story being what it is, I thought a little explanation might be needed beforehand. _

_First and foremost: I blame this one entirely on Facebook memes. There are a few floating around with Harry Potter Supernatural crossovers, including one that involves Dumbledore introducing the brothers as the new Defense teachers. I saw it, and the idea got stuck in my head, evolving into...well, this._

 _Where we are: This is AU Book 5, OOTP, for Harry Potter. He gets the Winchesters and Cas for defense teachers as opposed to Umbridge. Which is...interesting, to say the least. For Supernatural, this is AU Season 6, from about the 4th episode, 'Weekend at Bobby's'. In this story, the boys are stranded in Scotland after flying there to threaten Crowley and discovering they are too broke to fly home. Sam is not soulless, and Cas is not working with Crowley. Also, there wasn't a year break. Cas has told the boys about his involvement with the war in Heaven, and they wound up wandering into the magical world because they were looking for a warded place where they could take a break while they figured out what to do. The Winchesters can see and interact with the magical world because their status as archangel vessels gives them power. They are technically Wizards, albeit very unusual ones. Dumbledore hired them to prevent the Ministry from assigning a teacher to the Castle and gaining a foothold at Hogwarts. The Ministry permitted it, because they think Sam, Dean and Cas are too harmless and ignorant to cause problems._

 _So...on that note...let the fun begin!_

 **Chapter** **One:** **Enter** **the** **Defense...Teachers?**

Harry sighed as he settled into his seat at Gryffindor table. He had an urge to bang his head on the table, or just fall asleep.

The summer had been...trying. Dudley, the Dementors, the trial...he'd nearly been expelled from school and locked up for saving his bloody cousin's life!

He'd liked being at Grimmuald Place, spending time with Sirius and Remus, and yet...the atmosphere of the house had been gloomy, the place was filthier than any other place he'd ever stayed. And that portrait, it just wouldn't shut up. And while it had been great spending time with his godfather, his best friends and the Weasley clan...well, it had also been a good deal more crowded than he was used to.

And the Order meetings...he swallowed against the feeling of resentment that ached in his throat. He knew the meetings were all about Voldemort, and the fact that he was being excluded made him angry. He knew things about Voldemort that they probably didn't. He'd had the visions, had been having them since last year. He'd been at the resurrection spell. His blood had been used to revive the bastard.

He'd been the one to see Cedric die.

He was the one who'd already faced Lord Bloody Voldemort three times, four if you counted his infancy, and gotten out alive all four times. Sure, part of it had been his mum's sacrifice, which was now useless, but he'd done his fair share of fighting in all those encounters.

And still, they treated him like he was too young, too ignorant to be allowed in on Order meetings. Dumbledore and Snape and Mrs. Weasley and even Sirius insisted on keeping him in the dark.

Even the fact that the others his age, and the Weasley twins, who were technically adults, were kept out didn't soothe him much. They hadn't faced Voldemort. They hadn't lived through the graveyard. They didn't have people watching them all the time, expecting them to kill the darkest wizard of the age, or turn into his clone.

His thoughts were broken by applause as the Sorting ended and Dumbledore, standing at the podium. "Welcome, new students. And welcome back. Now, before we begin our most excellent Feast, I would like to introduce our new Defense against the Dark Arts teachers, here for a year from America."

Teachers? More than one? Harry sat up straight and craned his head towards the staff table.

Three men were standing up at the end. Harry stared in surprise, and from the murmuring that flooded through the hall, he wasn't the only one.

None of the three were dressed in robes, even though the Feast was a school function. Two of them were wearing jeans, shirts and trainers, and casual jackets. The third was wearing a Muggle business suit, with a longer tan coat thrown over it. They all looked out of place, jarring.

"Professor Sam Winchester, teaching First and Second Year." This was apparently the tall guy on the very end, the one who looked like he might give Hagrid a run for his money in height, with long brown hair, cut neat, and a friendly open face. He smiled a little as he nodded to the students. For some reason, he reminded Harry a little of Remus.

"Professor Dean Winchester, teaching Third and Fourth Year." This was the shorter guy with the green eyes and the spiky brown hair in the leather jacket. He looked intense, not nearly as friendly as Sam. In fact, he looked like he'd almost rather not be there. But he looked tough too, with an air about him that reminded Harry of Kingsley and Moody.

"And last, but not least, Professor Castiel Winchester, teaching Fifth through Seventh Years." This was the guy in the suit and coat. Dark brown-black hair as messy as Harry's own, and intense blue eyes. His face was practically expressionless, though he did look a little surprised when he was introduced. For a second. Then his face returned to an impassive expression.

That was going to be his Defense teacher. He looked like a Muggle businessman. Even so, there was something in his eyes that made Harry's instincts whisper that he couldn't discount the man, even if he did dress like Uncle Vernon's business friends.

"Please join me in welcoming our new Professors." Dumbledore began to clap, and the rest of the staff followed suit. So did the students. Harry joined in, eyes still on the three men.

Moments later, the feast appeared, distracting him. Harry helped himself and dug in. In spite of a month of proper feeding by Mrs. Weasley, he was still thinner than he wanted to be, and shorter too. Fortunately, he had much more of an appetite than he usually did.

He couldn't help glancing up at the Head Table now and again, watching the new teachers. Four years had taught him caution in the matter of Defense professors. He noticed Snape glaring at them, and considered that a point in their favor. Over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy looked similarly disgruntled.

It was halfway through the meal that he looked up and saw something odd happen. One of the men, Dean, finished with his plate. The taller guy, Sam, was still eating, and the third man, Castiel, still had a full plate. As he watched, Dean deftly snatched Castiel's full plate and set his own empty one in it's place. He transferred some of the food to Sam's plate, then began eating again. And Castiel did nothing to stop them. In fact, it almost looked like he'd been waiting for it to happen. After a second, Dean switched silverware with him as well.

It was...strange. He filed it away to think about later. When dessert arrived, he kept an eye on the Head Table. He saw Castiel eat all of one cookie. Sam didn't eat anything on the dessert table, and Dean ate enough to rival Ron.

Afterward, Dumbledore dismissed everyone. Ron and Hermione left to attend their Prefects meeting. He went up to the Gryffindor common room, still mulling over their new Defense professors and their odd behavior.

He wondered what Ron and Hermione would make of what he'd witnessed in the Great Hall.

***HS***

"What the hell...damn it, I thought it was bad when there were only a handful of adults...now this place is crawling with Sabrina-wannabes." Dean flopped on the bed in the dorm-style room he, Sam and Cas shared.

Cas's brow furrowed. "I don't understand..."

"TV reference." Sam was leaning back in his bed, studying a thick book he'd picked up from the library and making notes. "Sabrina is a teenage witch. It was a popular show back home, especially in the early 90's."

"Ah." Cas's eyes sparked with understanding. "It's a reference to the students, all of whom are adolescents."

"Exactly. And all of whom are witches. We normally hunt witches." Dean scowled.

Sam huffed. "Dean, we've already been over this, like a hundred times. These aren't witches like the ones we usually go after. They're actually born with magic, they don't make demon deals or pray to the forces of darkness, and their spells are completely different. As a matter of fact, their spells seem to be all Latin based and pretty basic. We went through all this when the Headmaster asked us to take the job here."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, I remember the snazzy tour and the floating feathers and crap. But dammit, Sammy, why the hell are we here?"

Castiel frowned. "We already discussed this. If you're suffering memory loss..."

Sam grinned. "Relax Cas. Dean remembers. He just wants to hear it again." He looked over the top of his book at his brother. "We're here because we flew to Scotland to help Bobby threaten Crowley, and then discovered that we're too broke to buy plane tickets home. And Cas is here because he's got Raphael breathing down his neck, and he was looking for help, and he hasn't zapped us back because he's trying to stay under the radar, and a long flight like that with two passengers would pretty much be a beacon."

"Okay. I get why we're in Scotland. But why did we agree to become teachers at this freakin' school again?" Dean glared at his brother.

Sam returned to his book. "You agreed because they said they'd pay us in gold coins, which will come out to more cash than we've ever seen in our lives, and might actually allow us to be comfortable for a while, without hustling and credit card scams. Which has the added bonus of keeping us under the police radar back home. I agreed because they have a fascinating collection of reference books we've never even seen, and their magic system looks a hell of a lot simpler than the stuff Bobby's taught us. Cas agreed because he needs a place to rest up and hide out while he figures out a non-kamikaze method of dealing with Raphael, and this place has some of the best wards he's seen anywhere on the planet, plus Raphael probably wouldn't look for him in Scotland. And, in case you've forgotten it, we all wanted a break. Six months since the Apocalypse, and Cas has a civil war to deal with, and I'm still dealing with the crap in my head from falling into the Cage. Plus, added bonus, we just found out that being angel vessels, specifically archangel vessels, means we have the potential for some powers of our own, which it might be useful to learn how to use. It's certainly a trump card for hunting, and we both agreed we'd like to explore it."

"Right, right. I get it. But still man...witches and wizards...and that black haired dude that was near us...man, he gives me the creeps."

"That was Professor Snape." Sam's brow furrowed. "He was a little hostile." He shrugged. "Maybe he's just naturally bad tempered."

Cas frowned. "There was a sense of malevolent energy in the Hall, but it was too weak for me to pinpoint it."

"Great. Perfect. Well, when you do find it, let me know. I'm gonna need something to punch before too long." Dean sighed and threw an arm over his face.

Sam blinked, then set his book down. "You guys do know what you're supposed to do, right? And what you're absolutely _not_ supposed to do?"

Dean grunted. "Teach the kids the family business. Self defense techniques, how to identify and kill monsters. And no guns. And there's all these freaky spells." He scowled at a thick leather folder. "Don't worry Sammy, you wrote me up a freakin' syllabus. I'll use it."

Cas nodded and picked up a similar folder. "I have one as well." He read through the file Sam had made for him, and his brow furrowed. "Sam, why do you have me teaching Enochian techniques, and why are there question marks?"

Sam sighed. "Cas...you're just now looking at that?"

The angel shifted. "I was...making arrangements with my commanders, contingency plans. And scouting the local area, in case I need to order a retreat to earth for my supporters. And checking for additional dangers." His head cocked. "There are some rather unsafe creatures in the forest..."

"Yeah. The grounds-keeper looks after those. I asked after I discovered the giant spiders. And apparently, some of them are examples in the Care of Magical Creatures class they have here." Dean grimaced, and Sam's expression screwed up into an unpleasant frown.

Sam shuddered a bit, then turned his attention back to the angel. "The Headmaster suggested we introduce some of our own techniques. One, to give our students a little variety in their training. Two, to add realism to our cover story of being foreigners. And three, because we're all more comfortable with our own work, and it'll look better if we're confident. I put the question marks because I wasn't sure you actually could teach most of your Enochian spells. Some of them seemed okay for humans to use, like the banishing sigil, but stuff like that tracking spell you used on Balthazar..."

"It can be modified for human or angel use. Most Enochian spells and sigils can be." Cas looked down at his folder again. "I see I'm supposed to intersperse this with...O.W.L and N.E.W.T techniques?"

Dean spluttered, laughing. "What?"

"O.W.L is Ordinary Wizarding Level. N.E.W.T is Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test. Apparently, they're competency exams. I understand the first one's basic stuff, the second one's harder, stuff like non-verbal casting, casting without a wand, higher level spells that take more focus. That kind of stuff."

Dean snorted. "Sam, you're such a nerd."

Sam shrugged. "Just wanted to be prepared. You get the easy part, just explaining hunting with a few minor additions thrown in. I have to lay the groundwork for these kids education. Especially all the new ones."

Dean grinned. "That's what you get for actually paying attention to your Latin, bitch."

Sam smirked back. "Jerk."

Castiel looked up. "It might be wise for both of you to rest. Tomorrow is the first day of classes, both teaching and learning. It would be best if both of you were as prepared as possible."

"Says the angel who doesn't need sleep, or education. Or being prepared." Dean huffed, then wriggled the rest of the way onto the bed. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to knock us both out."

Cas made a soft, exasperated sound. "Normally, I would be against such a frivolous use of power. However...one night only." He raised his hand.

Moments later, both brothers were sound asleep. The angel watched them for a few minutes, then picked up Sam's book and his own syllabus and began reading quietly.

 _ **Author's Note:** And...we're off! Thoughts? Opinions? _


	2. Chapter 2: First Days

**Chapter Two: First Days**

Harry woke the next morning relieved to be back at Hogwarts. He got dressed, woke Ron, and made sure his wand was stowed safely away.

He'd been afraid during the trial that he wouldn't get to come back to Hogwarts. And that he'd no longer have a wand.

McGonagall handed out schedules before breakfast, and they all compared notes, especially on Defense Against Dark Arts classes. Ginny and Luna had it second class the first day, Harry and his year-mates had it first class their second day. First day was Charms and Herbology. They'd have Defense right before Transfiguration.

Harry grabbed some breakfast, but his attention was on the staff table. The professors, including their new Defense teachers, had come in and settled down for breakfast. Snape looked as sour as ever, Dumbledore as amused, McGonagall as stern. Hagrid as nervous and Flitwick and Sprout as cheerful. Nothing new there.

The three Defense Professors were once more attired in Muggle clothes. In fact, it looked like Castiel had never changed out of his previous outfit. Maybe all his clothes were like that. The other two were relaxed, chatting to each other, and to Flitwick, who was sitting next to Sam.

Harry kept one eye on his food, one eye on the Professors. Halfway through the meal, he saw it.

Once again, Castiel had a full plate, while the other two were almost done. Once again, one of the others swapped his full plate for theirs and swapped out the silverware. And the smaller man just let it happen, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice jerked his attention back to the Gryffindor table.

Ron was frowning at him. "You've been staring at the staff table like you expect it to catch fire, mate. Snape giving you the glare again or what?"

Harry shook his head. "Snape's normal, for Snape anyway." He shot a quick scowl at the dark-haired Potions Professor. "It's just...have you noticed anything...odd, about our Defense teachers?"

"Aside from their clothing, you mean?" Ron shrugged. "They look a little tough, but hell, Moody looked worse."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, I'm not sure you'd call it...odd, exactly, but I did notice that none of them assigned a text book for this year. Well, I think the First Years are using the standard one, but there's not one listed for our year, or for Fourth Years and Third Years. I checked."

Harry blinked. He hadn't even noticed that, but Hermione was right. They hadn't picked up any new Defense books for class this year. New Charms, Transfiguration, and other books, but none for Defense. He set the thought aside. "That's odd, but that isn't what I meant."

He explained what he'd seen. "It's strange, isn't it?"

Ron's brow creased. "It is a bit dodgy. But...maybe he's just got a touchy stomach or something, doesn't want to broadcast it and get sent to Madam Pomfrey?"

Hermione nodded. "Or he could have an unusual eating schedule, or a specific diet, and not want people to know. I've heard there are medical conditions like that."

Ron smirked suddenly. "Or maybe Snape just puts him off his food."

"Ron." Hermione shot him an exasperated look. "We're prefects. We need to set a good example, no matter how we feel about certain professors."

"Sure Hermione." Ron shrugged. He glanced back at the Professor's table. "I get why you're a bit concerned, mate, but it's probably nothing much."

Harry scowled. "Yeah. That's what I thought about Moody last year. If I'd been suspicious of that stupid hip flask earlier..."

Ron grimaced. "Point."

Hermione frowned. "I can understand why you're concerned Harry, but two meals...it isn't all that much to go on. Why don't we just keep an eye on him for a week or so, and we can go to McGonagall or the Headmaster if he's still behaving oddly."

Harry's stomach clenched as he remembered the way Dumbledore had ignored him during the trial, and at Grimmuald Place. Nevertheless, he nodded. "All right."

"Good. Then finish eating, mate. We've got Charms in twenty minutes."

Harry gulped and turned his attention to his bacon and eggs.

Half an hour later, all thought of his Defense Professor's odd behavior had been wiped from his thoughts by Professor Flitwick's syllabus.

He'd known O.W.L year was supposed to be hard, but the workload the Charms Professor was giving them was astounding. 1-3 foot long essays due practically every class, and the number of spells they were learning...

By the time class let out, Harry was convinced that if the other professors were this bad, he'd barely have time to eat and sleep, much less play Quidditch or do anything else.

None of the Defense Professors turned up for lunch, but that wasn't so unusual. Teachers were frequently missing during the midday meal.

Following that was Herbology, and by the time that was over, Harry was about ready to throw his hands up in frustration. Professor Sprout was every bit as hard as Professor Flitwick. He already shuddered to think what McGonagall was going to be like. And Snape...

He really didn't want to think about Snape. With Hermione's help, he'd gotten his summer Potions essay done, but he knew Snape wouldn't give him any points for it. He was already betting that Snape would be finding as many reasons as possible to deduct points and fail him. Especially since it was O.W.L year, and he'd want to make sure Harry failed that, the git.

Harry worked on some of his homework, then went down to dinner. Afterward, Ron and Hermione had to attend to prefect duties. Harry took the opportunity to go find Ginny and Luna, talking together. "Hey."

"Hey Harry." Ginny scooted over for him, and Harry sat down. "How are you?"

Harry cracked an awkward half smile. "Tired. The professors are really laying it on."

Ginny nodded. "It is O.W.L year. Fred and George said it was brutal. Then again, what they've been saying about this year..." She shrugged.

"Yeah." Harry swiped a stray bit of hair out of his eyes. "I was just wondering...you had Defense today, right?"

"We did. The teacher is very intense." Luna's eyes shifted to look at the table. "I don't think he likes teaching very well, but he's quite knowledgeable. He knows things I don't think some of our Seventh Years know. And he's very focused."

"He is." Ginny grinned. "He has this whole list of creatures we're going to learn how to deal with. And he's got this hands on approach to dealing with them. He gave us some ideas of the spells and all, but he seems really, really into hands-on methods. It's a lot different from Professor Lupin, or even Moody." She frowned. "He's...it's like Lockhart, only he's actually sensible. And capable."

"You think he knows what he's doing then?"

"He knows." Luna's voice had taken on an airy, singsong quality of utter certainty.

"That's good. Know anything about the other two?"

Luna actually smiled. "A bit controversial. Especially the smaller one."

"You mean Professor Castiel?" Harry tensed. "I've been wondering about him, since he's our year's teacher."

"He's quite skilled, and quite powerful. But apparently, he was taught a very different system of magic than we learn. The whole tower was in an uproar about it when the Seventh Years came in. It upset them a great deal, you know, having a whole system of magic that they never learned before now. I had a look at some of their notes...it looks quite intriguing."

A system of magic that no one had seen before...the prospect of the work was enough to make Harry groan. But if it was completely new, then it also might be something Voldemort had never seen.

He needed weapons. The bloody maniac was after him, and he needed as many weapons as he could get. Besides...he wanted to avenge Cedric. And his parents.

"Harry?" The concern in Ginny's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Both girls were staring at him, Ginny with a worried look, Luna with her usual impassive one.

"Sorry. Just thinking. About...well, things." He managed a weak smile.

"About You-Know-Who." Ginny's voice was soft.

"Yeah. This stuff the new teacher's going over...I was wondering if he'd ever seen it. If not, I reckon I need all the lessons I can get." Harry felt his shoulders tense.

"I can understand why you'd think that Harry, but..." Ginny put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't forget about your O.W.L's and all, okay? There is life outside...all that."

Harry nodded, though his gut clenched. "Yeah. I know. Sorry." He ducked his head, then stood. "Speaking of O.W.L's, we've got loads of homework, and I reckon Hermione'll skin me if she gets back and I haven't even looked at it."

"Probably." Ginny smirked. "Glad it's not me."

Harry snorted. "Thanks." He turned and made his way to Gryffindor tower.

***HS***

Dean collapsed on his bed. "Damn. These kids..."

"Fourth Years, right?" Sam looked up from his book.

"Yeah, Fourth Years. I gave 'em the basic 'talk' today, and you'd have thought I was telling them Santa wasn't real. Or that I'd stepped out of a loony bin." Dean grimaced. "Surrounded by frickin' wizards and witches, and they think I'm the nutjob here!" He huffed. "Swear to God..."

"Dean." Cas looked up sharply.

"Yeah, sorry." Dean grimaced. Cas had been touchy about anyone uttering his Father's name ever since Joshua's message had been delivered over a year ago. "These kids, I start talking and they're all sitting there, their little...sticks or whatever..."

"Wands." Sam supplied the word.

"Yeah. Those. Just sittin' there with them out, like, staring at me. And then this one kid puts her hand up and wants to know if I'll be covering the proper spells for them, and if I've ever faced a...booger..."

"Boggart. One of the first creatures on your Third Year syllabus. It's a modified shade, responds to fear by shape-changing into the thing you fear most. Can be stopped by the incantation Riddikulus, and focusing on something that amuses you instead."

Dean snorted. "I know, Sammy, I did my homework. So shut up, bitch."

Sam huffed. "Jerk."

Cas's head cocked. "Iron and holy water will also temporarily dispel one."

"Good to know." Dean sighed. "Still, they're asking me about ghosts, and werewolves and trolls and all this gnarly crap. And yeah, I've faced 'em, I've hunted just about everything on the planet, only I can't tell these kids I just shoot most of it. And they're asking about all those spells and stuff...Sammy, I don't know this crap!"

"Yeah, well, better practice." Sam gave his brother a slightly malicious grin. "You're gonna have to demonstrate sometime."

"Screw you, Sammy." Dean's head thumped back on the pillow.

Sam shrugged. "What, I have to practice too. And neither of us have wands, so we're going to be learning it all the hard way, with focus on wandless magic. The principle seems to be focused on will power and visualization, though, so we should be able to manage."

"Indeed. The two of you should prove quite capable in that regard, considering that you derailed the Apocalypse with nothing else." Castiel looked up from his own notes. "If you wish, I can help you practice. This particular system of magic seems fairly straightforward."

Sam smiled. "Thanks Cas. We'll probably take you up on that."

Dean groaned. The other two ignored him. Then the older Winchester lifted his head. "Speaking of classes, weren't you teaching today too Cas?"

"Yes. I was teaching the Seventh Years, the ones about to graduate." He cocked his head. "Some of them were quite agitated when I explained the basics of Enochian sigils and spells. They seemed quite upset that they'd never heard of them before."

"Yeah, well, you get to the top and think you know everything you need, and then get whammied by new information..." Dean smirked.

Sam grinned too. "Kind of like us having magic?"

Dean scowled. "Shut up, Sammy."

"Just saying..." The younger Winchester frowned at his notes. "Hey Cas...if we're casting wandlessly, do we need to use the same gestures?"

"I don't believe so. However, in the interests of teaching, you may wish to practice them."

"Right." Sam sighed. "Well, I've got some basic shielding and disarming spells to go through. I'm not supposed to get to practicals until one or two class periods from now, but if I'm going to have any luck with this, better get started." He stood, stretched. "You up for some practice? The Headmaster told me there's a room on the seventh floor that should work."

"Of course. Dean?" Castiel cocked his head at the older Winchester.

Dean grimaced, but levered himself off the bed. "Fine. But I'm voting for a trip to the kitchens to get some pie when we're done."

Sam snickered. Castiel's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "I believe that would be acceptable. Magic does expend a great deal of energy, it's wise to consider replenishing it after use."

Dean smirked at his brother. "That's what I'm talking about. Let's go find this room, get some practice in before it's lights out."

"Sure." Sam picked up the books on his bed, and led the other two from the room.

***HS***

Harry got to breakfast early the next morning. He hadn't been able to sleep, too nervous and excited about his new Defense Professor. Luna's description of him had sounded promising.

The three Winchesters arrived shortly after McGonagall. Castiel sat in the middle. Harry watched, frowning as one of the other brothers filled a plate and set it in front of him. Then they filled their plates and started eating, while Castiel watched quietly.

Ten minutes later, Dean cleaned his plate and stole some of the food off of Castiel's. Five minutes later, Sam stole the rest.

It was weird. Harry turned back to his own breakfast with a frown. He hadn't actually seen Castiel eat a meal yet. But Hermione might be right. It could just be some weird eating habit or diet that he didn't want people to know about. He forced himself to put the thought aside.

Best to see what kind of Defense teacher the man was, before worrying about his eating habits.

Half an hour later, Harry, Hermione and Ron settled into their seats in the Defense classroom. Hermione, as usual, pulled out a thick sheaf of parchment to take notes on.

Two minutes later, the rest of the students had filed in and taken their seats. And still, the Defense Professor hadn't showed up. Harry was just starting to wonder where he was when the man walked through the door, carrying a thick leather folder.

He set the folder down on the desk, flipped it open, and frowned at the first sheet. He didn't even look at the class.

Hermione shifted in her seat and raised her hand. He didn't seem to notice. She sat there for at least thirty seconds, then cleared her throat. "Professor..."

"Castiel." The professor looked up. Harry felt his spine instinctively straighten under the man's intense blue-eyed stare. He'd thought Moody's magic eye was formidable, but Castiel's gaze hit almost like a Bludger.

Hermione looked taken aback. "Sir?"

"My name is Castiel." He glanced back at his papers. "I'm here to be your instructor for Fifth Year Defense."

"Yes sir. I was just wondering...there wasn't a textbook assigned for this class, or a syllabus."

"Much of the material I will be covering will not be found in any books you possess. As for the other material, for your...O.W.L studies, I have been assured by the Headmaster that the books in your school library will furnish sufficient study materials. As for a syllabus..." He frowned, then pulled out a sheaf of notes from the binder. "This should be sufficient." He turned, picked up a piece of chalk, and began to write.

Hermione scrambled to keep up. The rest of the class watched, dumbfounded, as the man filled the entire chalkboard with neat, precise handwriting that would have put McGonagall to shame. Harry blinked at the terms. He didn't understand half of them.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one. After a moment, Seamus raised his hand. "Sir...what's...Eno..."

"Enochian. It's an old language, as well as a system of spells using runes and sigils. My family was educated in it's use, and Professor Dumbledore asked me to share the basics with you, as part of your education for the year."

Draco made a rude noise. "I've never even heard of such a thing."

Castiel's gaze flicked to him, and Draco actually flinched backward and snapped his mouth shut. "I suspect there are many things you've never heard of." He glanced around the class. "If you've all finished copying out the syllabus..."

There was an immediate scramble for parchment and quills. Castiel started to erase the board, but Hermione put up her hand again. "Please sir, I'm not quite finished yet."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Castiel lowered his arm. Snape probably would have sneered and erased the instructions anyway. McGonagall probably would have given them one of those forbidding scowls of hers. Professor Castiel, on the other hand, didn't seem to be put out at all. He simply waited until the scratching of quills over parchment had ceased, then wiped the board clean.

"Enochian." He wrote the word on the board, then scratched out a line of incomprehensible syllables next to it. "The language was introduced in the early days of humanity, around the time of the Neandrathals, and largely forgotten shortly after the Tower of Babel fell. The diversification of human language made the consistent use of Enochian impossible for the majority of the population. Since then, each major human society has developed it's own specific form of spell-casting, and the majority of magic users today prefer the Latin derivation, which I understand is what you use."

Harry wrote quickly, his mind whirling. He'd never heard any of this discussed in History of Magic class. Hermione was frowning, the way she did when she encountered new information that threw her off.

"Enochian is a very complicated language. The proper combination of words and sigils in Enochian can accomplish virtually anything. Learning Enochian properly takes years...far longer than I understand you have at this institution, and certainly far longer than I intend to be teaching here. So, at the Headmaster's request, my intention is to introduce you to the basic sigils and spells required for self-defense and protection."

Harry raised his hand, and Castiel pinned him with an unblinking stare. "Sir...does Enochian have offensive spells too? Attacking spells?"

"Of course. But I think it would be unwise to teach you those." Castiel turned back to the board and began erasing his lecture notes again.

Harry bit his lip. He wanted to pursue the topic, but he had a feeling that the Professor didn't intend to answer him. And he wasn't in the mood to push too far and blow his chances of learning something later. But an attack spell, something that Voldemort might not know and be able to counter...he needed to know.

Castiel began writing again. Strange, runic markings, with what looked like nonsense syllables beside them. "These are the most basic defensive sigils. You should copy them down and memorize them."

"Seriously." A loud, drawling sneer interrupted. Harry twisted his head around to see Draco, sitting at his desk with his arms folded defiantly. "Ancient languages? I don't believe a word of it. My father can trace his lineage back nearly to Merlin, and I've never heard of any of this rubbish."

A faint frown creased Castiel's eyebrows. "Merlin was...very recent, all things considered. And I have explained how the system came to be largely forgotten."

"Then how did _you_ learn it?" Draco's lip curled. "Honestly...if I didn't know better, I'd think Professor Dumbledore hired you off some Muggle street."

"I don't understand the reference, but I was not hired off the street. The matter involved some fairly intense discussion." Castiel's frown deepened. "Mr. Malfoy, I would prefer if you did not waste any further time."

Harry sucked in a breath. Castiel hadn't called roll, and today was the first day of classes. How did he know Draco's name?

"I understand Professor. But frankly Professor, I'd like to see some proof that this...system of yours is even real." Malfoy stood up. "Because I've heard people talk, and not even the Ravenclaws have read of anything like this. Nor has my father."

Castiel's head cocked, tilting like an owls. "I suppose a demonstration would be beneficial." He set down the chalk. He considered the classroom, then moved to one end. "You should come here."

Draco smirked, then swaggered up to the front of the classroom, stopping when he was standing across from the Professor.

Castiel stood, loose and relaxed. He hadn't even taken off his coat or drawn a wand. Harry's hands clenched under the desk.

"You may cast any spell you wish at me." Muffled gasps went up all around the classroom. That was more lenient than even Lupin had been. Harry bit his lip.

Draco's sneer increased, lighting his eyes with malevolent glee. Harry felt his stomach clench. No way was Draco not going to try and humiliate the Professor...

Draco raised his wand. "Stupefy!"

The Defense Professor didn't even twitch. Instead, his left hand shot up, almost inhumanly fast...

And _caught_ Malfoy's spell, the beam of light compressing into a small, glowing red ball against his palm.

The Professor turned his hand palm upward, studying the spell. "A stunning spell. Excellent strength, for a practitioner of your age. However..." He lifted his other hand, sketched a quick symbol over the ball of spell light in his palm. The magic fizzled away like a match being doused in water. "This is why Enochian is effective."

There was a surprised splutter from Dean Thomas. Hermione spoke up. "But sir...you didn't say or write anything to block it."

To Harry's surprise, the Professor looked away, lips compressing into a thin line. "When you've been practicing as long as I have, you learn to use the spells without resorting to written sigils and vocalizations." He glanced at Draco. "You should return to your seat."

Draco slunk back to his desk. Castiel moved back to the board. "For reference..."

He wrote out a quick phrase, followed by a circled symbol of some kind. "This is the blocking spell and sigil. And this..." He drew another one, one that looked vaguely like the hand motion he'd demonstrated. "This is the sigil used to dispel and neutralize hostile powers. There are other runes, but these are the most generalized of them."

Harry scrambled to copy the words down, then raised his hand. "Sir...the spell, does it block just once, or can it be used multiple times?"

"When the sigil is drawn, it will last as long as the marks remain unbroken. Spoken or used non-verbally, it must be renewed. If you combine the methods, it will be stronger, but the stronger spell must also be repeated."

He glanced up at the class, then swept the board clean. "For the sigil, bear in mind that the materials used for drawing it will determine it's strength. Chalk works, but it is very impermanent. Paint is more efficient. Also, using your own blood ties your magic into the sigil, which provides more force, but can also be extremely dangerous. Some sigils should never be drawn in blood, as the side effects can prove disastrous. Likewise, some sigils should always be drawn in blood, to increase their potency, and to exclude yourself from the spells effects. Most banishing sigils fall under this category."

The Professor continued. "Defensive sigils, such as this one, should be drawn in ink or paint. This gives you the greatest durability in your spell, and avoids the personal repercussions if the spell is broken by your opponent."

Ron broke in. "Repercussions?"

"They are...unpleasant. Highly unpleasant. Using the spoken version avoids some of them, but only if your concentration is unbroken. The spell may backlash otherwise. And that is also unpleasant."

That made it a little more dangerous than the standard shield spells that Harry knew, like the Protego. But still...he'd never seen anyone _catch_ a Stunning spell before.

The rest of the lecture involved the sigils Professor Castiel had drawn before, explaining their uses and the pronunciation of their vocal forms.

Harry left the class feeling like someone had tried to cram an entire years worth of information into his head. He was also convinced that Castiel was the strangest Professor he'd ever had. He didn't give or take points, although maybe it was just because it was his first day with them. He certainly knew what he was talking about, but he seemed...awkward. And that stare of his could definitely have given Moody's eye a run for it's money. He didn't even think Snape's glare could compete with it.

But he was competent, and he didn't seem evil. That was enough to be going on with. Harry made a resolution to study his notes more thoroughly later, then raced to make it to Transfiguration class.

 _ **Author's Note:** So...first day of school for everyone. How did you like it?_

 _Castiel's kind of awkward to write as a teacher. Don't worry, his style will smooth out as he gets used to things. Sort of. As much as an angel teaching teenagers can._

 _Up next, everyone's got a lot to learn..._


	3. Chapter 3: Continuing Education

**Chapter Three: Continuing Education**

The rest of the week went the same way. All the teachers were piling on the homework. McGonnagall not only passed out a three foot long syllabus with monster assignments, but also laid down more stringent requirements for Transfiguration Class. Before, they'd sometimes been able to squeak a good grade with an oddly colored teapot or two, but the Transfiguration Professor made it quite clear that nothing less than the best would be passing in Fifth Year.

Potions was a nightmare. Harry hadn't been wrong about Snape. The man was even more vitriolic than usual. From the way Snape snapped up his homework assignment, Harry got the feeling that the man would have set fire to it and given him a zero if he thought he could get away with it. He did make a mistake while brewing, but his potion was better than some of the Slytherin ones that Snape deemed 'an acceptable effort', though from Snape's expression, you'd have thought he'd melted the cauldron. He'd have been tempted to fuss, if Hermione and Ron hadn't both given him warning glares and headshakes. As it was, Snape took ten points from Gryffindor for his 'insolent glare'.

Fifth day of classes they had Defense again. Harry was looking forward to learning more of the Professor's odd spell-casting. He'd been practicing drawing the sigils, working his way through the incantations, and he was hoping for a chance to test out the spells.

Castiel showed up the same as he had the previous class, two minutes late and looking rumpled. Harry had never seen an adult with hair as untidy as his, but the professor looked as if he'd never even bothered to try and brush his, and the clothes were the same as the ones he'd worn all week, as if the man never changed. He set his folder on the desk, looked over it, then looked up."I assume you have all been practicing."

Several people shifted guiltily. Hermione sat up straight and put her hand in the air. "Professor."

Castiel's sharp gaze transferred to her. "Miss Granger."

"Sir, the pronunciations on some of the words….I've noticed, it's difficult to tell if the sounds are long or short. Based on what you've said, would a difference on long or short vowel sounds alter the components of the spell?"

"Most likely. Enochian is very complex."

"Then...would it be possible for us to have some sort of reference? I mean, since there aren't any books in the library..." She flushed.

Ron and Harry exchanged an amused grin. Hermione had spent an entire evening in the library, looking for any references, and been horribly frustrated at the lack of material.

Castiel's head cocked to the side, brow pinching slightly in a thoughtful frown. Then it smoothed out. "That would be prudent. I shall endeavor to produce a basic translation guide for your next class." His gaze flicked over the rest of them. "I assume you have all experienced similar difficulties?" There was a murmur of assent. "Very well. We will work on another segment of your education today." He turned to the blackboard. "I understand that your O.W.L exams demand a basic competency in several different spells." He turned and wrote out a list of spells on the board. A long list. Harry stared at it. He knew a lot of them, but some of them he'd never even heard of.

Castiel turned back around. "Each of you, when I call your name, come up to the front of the class. We'll go over the first five spells on this list."

Harry looked at the first five spells. Protego. He knew that one. Expelliarmus. He'd learned that one Second Year. Stupefy. He knew it, more or less. Incendio. He knew it. Sort of. Petrificus Totalis. He'd seen Hermione cast it, but wasn't too sure about his own proficiency in it.

Castiel called Neville to the front of the class. Neville shuffled forward. "Cast your spells."

Neville glanced around. "I'm not sure where to aim. I mean...what's the target sir?"

Castiel's head tilted again. "I am."

Neville's eyes widened, and his throat worked as he swallowed nervously. "Sir...are you sure? My control isn't very good..." He flushed.

"You won't hurt me." Castiel nodded. He lifted one hand, and a ball of white light formed in his palm. "The first spell is a shield spell. You should cast it now." He flung the ball at Neville.

"Protego!" The word came out in a strangled yelp as Neville jerked his wand upward. The ball of light splashed on the shield, and it flickered and died.

Castiel nodded. "You need to put more force behind it. Also, shielding spells should be instinctive, a first reaction in combat. Either that, or extremely fast combat reflexes. You should practice." Neville nodded. Castiel lowered his hand. "You should cast the second spell now."

Harry perked up. He hadn't seen the Professor ever draw a wand. He was starting to think the man didn't have one.

Neville cast. Castiel's hand flickered up, sketching a quick symbol that looked similar to the one he'd used the previous class. Neville's spell disintegrated in mid-air. "You should put more force into your spell." Neville nodded again. "Third spell."

Neville's Stupefy got the same result as his Expelliarmus, but he flushed miserably when the Incendio came up. "I don't know that one. I can't remember it."

"Then you should study it. Ask one of your classmates or the older students to teach you. That's always the best method."

"That, or he could just partner with one of his classmates." Heads snapped around at the voice.

The tallest of the three new teachers, Sam Winchester, was sitting in the back of the classroom. How he'd gotten in without anyone noticing, Harry had no idea. Then again, Castiel didn't look annoyed or surprised. Perhaps he had known the other man was there.

Castiel cocked his head. Sam shrugged. "I had a free period, thought I'd come see how you were doing. Especially since I know it's been a while since you taught people. And you mentioned having trouble last time." He held up his hands as Castiel opened his mouth. "I'm just saying. I thought you could use some help. Teaching teenagers never was your thing, as far as I know."

Castiel paused, a frown creasing his forehead. "You have a suggestion."

"Yeah. Evaluating them one on one is going to take forever. And it's embarrassing for them. It might work better if you just partnered them with each other. See who does best at what spell, who does worst, rotate them through so each person can learn what they need to from their partner. And you can help the ones who have serious trouble." Sam shrugged. "It's just a thought."

"This is how you were taught."

"Not usually. But I always did better working with Dean or Bobby than I did getting grilled by Dad." A small smile flickered over the younger man's face. "Most students do better without public displays of their abilities."

"I see." Castiel's eyes flickered to the syllabus, then back up to Sam. "Perhaps, I could use some further...assistance. It appears my training was significantly different from yours. And possibly less applicable to dealing with younger humans."

"Sure." Sam strode up to the front. "So...what's on the lesson plan for today?"

"Beginning Enochian. But they asked me for a pronunciation guide. I don't have one, so I moved on to the next phase of their education." Cas moved back as Sam came to the front. "These are the spells they are supposed to know."

"And you were focusing on the first five." Sam laughed. "I've got it. So..." He looked up. "Everyone grab a partner. I don't care who."

There was a scramble as everyone grabbed partners. Harry ended up with Ron. Hermione ended up with Neville, by virtue of proximity. Finally, they were all sorted out.

Sam nodded. "All right. I want you to take turns casting spells at your partner. Keep casting the spell until you get it right, then move on to the next one."

Parvati raised a hand. "What about counters?"

Sam grimaced. "For now, just cast the spell. Professor Winchester will handle reversing it for you. The point is to find out if you're doing it correctly. We can work on countering and blocking next time."

"But one of those spells is meant to set things on fire." That was Dean Thomas, looking much less certain than he usually did. Understandable, since his partner was Seamus, and Seamus had never had a problem with setting things on fire.

Sam Winchester actually laughed a little. "Trust me, Professor Castiel is very good at dealing with fire. He's had a lot of practice."

"Technically..." Sam Winchester shot a look over his shoulder, and Castiel Winchester shut his mouth, looking a little puzzled, and possibly affronted. After a moment, he nodded. "Professor...Sam, is correct. I am very familiar with how to handle fire. I also know how to heal burns."

Harry watched the whole exchanged with interest. He didn't understand everything that was going on between the two professors, but he did understand a few things. One was that Castiel wasn't an experienced teacher, and Sam appeared to be. At least, he knew more about teaching than Castiel did. Another was that the two hadn't received the same teaching, even though he'd thought they were brothers.

Another was that they were keeping secrets. Several secrets. And that Sam Winchester was far more concerned with keeping them than Castiel Winchester was. Whatever they were, they were clearly important.

That made Harry curious.

Then the moment was broken by Castiel sweeping them all with his intense blue-eyed stare. "I believe you should start casting spells now."

The rest of the class involved casting spells at each other. Castiel Winchester moved through the room, making comments and reversing spells in his quiet monotone. How he reversed the spells, Harry wasn't sure. It wasn't the usual counters, not unless he was doing them wandlessly and nonverbally. It looked like more Enochian, but Harry couldn't tell because he didn't verbalize it.

Sam Winchester sat at the front of the class, making notes.

By the end of class, Harry was bruised from falling over from being Stupefied and Petrified, and his shirt was singed from Ron's Incendio. His shield was good though, better than Ron's or even Hermione's. Ron looked as tired and beat up as he did. Hermione looked less frazzled, probably because she'd spent more time helping Neville than she had being hit by spells designed to lay her out.

It was kind of funny too, to see Draco Malfoy looking mussed and bruised and less than perfectly groomed. But he'd been paired with Blaise Zabini, and Blaise was clearly no pushover.

Best of all, neither professor had assigned homework. Considering all they had to do in the other classes, that was a relief.

It had been a good class, but Harry found himself vaguely dissatisfied as he left. Not because of the spells.

He still wanted to know what the Winchesters were hiding, especially about Castiel.

 *****HS*****

Dean smirked as Castiel and Sam came in. "So, how'd it go?"

"Great. Just great." Sam sighed. "They want a pronunciation guide for Enochian. Which isn't unreasonable, but...it is complicated." He flopped on the bed. "And I think we need to supervise Cas's classes for a little while."

"What?" Dean sat up. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed.

Cas frowned. "Sam, I am perfectly capable..."

"You aren't. No offense Cas, but you're not used to teaching. Not normally, at any rate. And you are definitely not used to dealing with teenagers. I'm not trying to criticize, I'm just saying...being an Angel of the Lord and a Soldier of Heaven doesn't exactly prepare you for the classroom. And today just kind of proves it." Sam waved at the door. "Don't get me wrong. You're fine with me and Dean. But...there are only two of us. And Dean and I have been studying this stuff for years, so we're used to learning as we go and playing it off the cuff. It's what we do. We've been hunting like that practically since we were toddlers. These kids...they aren't like us."

"You mean they're sheltered little pansies." Dean snorted from his position on his bed.

"If you want to see it that way. The point is...Cas, you need help. This isn't something you were trained for. That's not...it's not a bad thing. It's just the way it is." Sam sighed again, then looked at the angel. "Think of it as...well, as training, so you can teach angels. Didn't you say you were having trouble, teaching them about Free Will?"

"Actually, he said it was like teaching fish poetry." Dean grinned.

"It is." Castiel sighed. "You are...correct. I was trained as a soldier, not a teacher. This was never my function in Heaven. Perhaps I am...unprepared."

"And that's nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, if we hadn't had Bobby, Dean and I probably wouldn't be doing that much better." Sam kept his voice soothing.

"True." Dean waved a hand at the ceiling. "Dad was more of a 'point and shoot' kinda guy."

Sam nodded. "So, Dean and I can help you, and in the meantime, you can help teach us, because Dean and I can handle it. Sound good?"

"No. But it sounds...acceptable. But you don't know enough to help teach Enochian."

"No but we can assist, serve as demonstrations. It's safer than using kids, especially if you're throwing around that angel powered shit." Dean popped up on his elbows. "Be kind of like sparring practice, and I could sure as hell use some. I'm about ready to go hunt the classroom material for that creature class." He grinned.

"Yeah. Don't do that. We can spar in that room the Headmaster showed us." Sam sat up to look at the books scattered across his bed. "Speaking of which…Dean, you and I both need more practice with our spells. I think I've almost got the Lumos and Wingardium Leviosa completely down, but you need work on yours."

"You mean that...Ridd...Ridd..."

"Riddikulus." The word rolled off of Cas's tongue. Dean frowned at him. "You do need more work, if you are to properly teach the younger students." He frowned. "And both of you need more practice with the standard defensive enchantments. Despite your lack of wands, the Disarming charm could be very useful against many foes."

"Fine." Dean growled the word, the rolled off the mattress. "How about a deal. We practice magic until dinner. But sparring and weapons training after dinner. At least an hour, cause I feel like I'm getting soft."

"Works for me. I could use the workout too." Sam nodded, then ducked to pull his duffel bag full of weapons out from under the bed. "Cas?"

"I am agreeable." The angel nodded.

"All right then." Dean ducked and grabbed his own duffel. "Let's get to practice then."

 *****HS*****

Harry spent the rest of the day working on his load of homework. It wasn't so bad, given the lack of Defense homework, but he'd never have managed without Hermione's help.

By dinner, he'd seen the notice go up for Quidditch try-outs, and he felt like he'd made decent headway on his Transfiguration and Herbology homework. Hermione wanted to start the Potions Homework after dinner, but Harry figured he'd do better with Charms or possibly History. After all, there was no way Snape was going to grade him fairly, so it hardly mattered if he did his homework well or poorly. As long as he studied up for the practical portion of class, he'd be fine.

They went down to dinner, Hermione still chattering about the various things she wanted to cover in her homework, and Ron and Harry discussing Quidditch. Ron was considering whether he wanted to try out for the team in fifth year or sixth. Harry was vocally supportive of either move, though privately he thought Ron might do better to focus on his new duties as a Prefect. Besides, Fred and George would tease their brother endlessly if he joined the team while they were still on it, and Ginny was already planning on joining as a reserve player. Ron had always struggled with being overshadowed by his family, and Harry didn't think it would do him any good to place himself in a situation where he'd be competing with all his other family members at Hogwarts for attention.

The food appeared, and Harry tucked in with a will. Defense had taken more energy than he'd expected, and lunch had vanished pretty fast. As always, he kept an eye on the staff table.

The professors Winchesters looked tired. Sam and Dean both had full plates. It looked like Castiel, sitting between them, had put a small portion of everything in reach on his plate. As always, he was simply sitting quietly while everyone else ate.

And, as usual, halfway through the meal, the other two Winchesters stole everything off his plate. Harry frowned.

Almost a full week into school, and he'd yet to see Castiel Winchester eat anything. The man showed up faithfully at every meal his two brothers attended, but never ate a bite.

Sadly, he wasn't going to solve that mystery any time soon. Harry turned back to his food.

Finally, dinner was over. The dishes cleared away, but before everyone could leave, Dumbledore stood up and moved to the podium, holding up his hands. "Before we all retire, a moment of your time." He settled hands on the podium. "In light of the events at the end of last year, the Ministry has elected to maintain a slight presence at the school for the coming year. Therefore, in the coming weeks, there will be a Ministry representative doing on-site evaluations. It would be best if all of you, teachers and students, were to extend the utmost cooperation to the representative when he or she arrives. Answer their questions. Attend to your studies, and do not allow yourself to be agitated by their presence. That is all."

Students began to file out of the Great Hall. Harry remained where he was, his stomach churning in sudden shock and dismay.

The Ministry. Representatives of the very same group that had tried to have him expelled and his wand snapped for saving his cousins. Somehow, he didn't think the Ministry representative was going to ignore his presence and let him get on with his life.

 *****HS*****

Up at the staff table, Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Then they were moving, all three of them rising in concert and heading for the staff door and up to the practice room. Sam shut the door behind them, just as Dean cursed and kicked at a conveniently placed wooden crate. "Son-of-a-bitch!"

"Dean, calm down." Sam sighed. "Just calm down. It's not that bad."

"Calm down?" Dean whirled. "Sam, there is no way we can pass as teachers! You and me, we're barely even competent. And Cas? Cas might have the mojo, but teaching and normal spells aren't exactly his thing. This...this ministry creep gets wind that we're teaching Enochian, think they're gonna go 'oh, angel magic, that's totally approved'. Like hell."

"So Cas sticks to regular curriculum until the eval's over. You and me, we practice, read up on the lessons. Make it look real. And if they question, tell them the American system's different. Tell them Cas had special training. Make it out that we're eccentric and harmless."

"Yeah, that's just great. Two hunters and an angel, and we're just gonna play harmless little academics."

"Well, at this point, we kind of have to. It's going to look really suspicious if we up and leave. Like I said, we just study the magic, stick to the textbooks until the evaluation is over." Sam huffed out a breath. "Cas can train too, in normal spell casting. Well, as normal as any of us are gonna get."

"That seems reasonable." Cas nodded.

Dean snarled and kicked another target. "Damn it..." Then he heaved a sigh and spun around. "I'm not good at this crap. I mean, Sam's already working on the spells I'm supposed to know, and I just got that stupid boggart-thing down."

"Yeah, well, I kind of have a head start." Sam grimaced apologetically. "The stuff Ruby taught me...the whole demon blood thing might have been wrong and honestly, kind of nasty in retrospect, but her training did give me a solid foundation in concentration, meditation and visualization. Which is something you never had, and something that is critical for these spells."

"Great. Well at least that evil skanky bitch was good for something." Dean growled.

"Yeah, well, the point is, we need to get all of us up to at least a semi-working standard. Or, in Cas's case, down to a working standard. And since we don't know how long we have, every second counts. So we need to get to work Dean."

Dean cursed, then relaxed with another growl. "Fine. But I'd better get some extra pie for this."

"Sure. I'll tell the house elves." Sam grinned.

The three of them got to work.

 _ **Author's Note:** So...how do you think the boys are going to handle the Ministry? And how is the Ministry going to handle them?_


	4. Chapter 4: Altercations

**Chapter Four: Altercations**

The Ministry official arrived a week later. She was a short, middle-aged woman who dressed in glaring pink robes and introduced herself as Dolores Umbridge.

Harry hated her on sight. Everything about her made his gut churn, from the insipid smile to the sickly sweet way she talked to them like all of them, teachers included, were toddlers. The annoying cough with which she introduced herself and interjected herself into conversations. And worst of all, the knowing, smug expression on her face, as if she was the master of Hogwarts, just deigning to let them get on with their lives in her domain.

Ron likened her to a toad. Even Hermione didn't bother to correct him, not after the woman scared Hagrid into barely speaking during their Care of Magical creatures class.

All of the teachers were on edge around her. Flitwick, normally a cheerful professor, was furious after her assessment in his class. McGonagall was in no better a mood when her turn came. Snape was positively acidic, and point loss reached record highs in his class after Umbridge did her assessment there. For once, not even the Slytherins were exempt. Harry might have found it funny, if Snape hadn't given him an arbitrary zero for sneezing near his cauldron. In fact, by the fifth day of Umbridges intrusion, he'd come to the conclusion that he'd finally found someone he hated more than Snape, and only slightly less than Voldemort.

Somehow, Umbridge managed to sit in on all of Harry's classes. Hermione said it was because she was doing an assessment for the teaching of all the years, but Harry knew the truth. She was keeping an eye on him. Probably hoping to find a reason to remove him from school.

Oddly enough, while Snape took a sound 30 points from him for 'insolence', the Potions Master didn't give him a zero on the day Umbridge supervised their Potions class. Harry thought about it, then decided that Snape simply hated Umbridge enough to spite her, even if it meant passing Harry.

The only bright spot in the whole ordeal was the day that Umbridge sat in on their Defense Against Dark Arts class.

They hadn't had a return to Enochian since Dumbledore had announced the intrusion of the Ministry. Harry chafed at that, but between the Ministry inspection and the pronunciation guide that Hermione had asked for, he reluctantly admitted he could see the point. Besides, the professors were smart, and he was learning almost as much as he had when Lupin had taught. Definitely, they were better professors than Moody. He was willing to wait on learning the new spells, if it meant the teachers would stay.

The two other Winchesters had started helping Castiel teach every class, alternating who helped out when. The day Umbridge sat in on the class was Dean Winchester's day, and it went down as one of the most amusing days Harry had experienced in school so far.

As usual, Castiel showed up just as the class was due to start, hair in disarray, clothing rumpled, and clutching his syllabus folder. Dean strolled in behind him, dressed in his usual Muggle clothes. None of the Defense professors had ever worn robes, and it was no different today.

Neither Winchester seemed to take any notice of the addition to the class. As usual, Castiel went straight to the desk, flipped open the syllabus, stared at it for a moment, then turned to the chalkboard. "We'll be working on these five spells today."

He wrote the spells out on the board. They were mostly jinxes, and hexes, things like the Leg-Locker and the Petrificus Totalis. Most of them were things Harry had already learned how to do, of course, but he looked forward to the practice.

Castiel set the chalk down and waved a hand. As usual, the desks all moved out of the way. "You should all pair up."

Students started to sort themselves into their usual pairs. Harry and Ron were already moving to stand next to Hermione and Neville when a familiar and detested voice cut through the air. "Ahem-hem. Excuse me. Excuse me. A moment, Professor Winchester."

Umbridge made her way to the front of the classroom, head held high, hands holding her clipboard close. "Excuse me, Professor Winchester."

Both men turned to look at her. "Yeah?" Dean's tone was short, and annoyed.

Umbridge stopped, brow furrowing in a frown. "I was speaking to Professor Castiel Winchester. I believe he _is_ the professor for this class, is he not? As a matter of fact, I'm not entirely sure why you are even in this room."

"I'm here to help monitor the situation."

"Indeed. And, as I understand it, Mr. Samuel Winchester was helping supervise the last class." She tapped her quill against her clipboard. "In fact, both of you have been involved in all of Professor Winchester's classes. I wonder then, is it because he is incompetent as a teacher?"

"I am inexperienced. Sam and Dean are not." Castiel's gravel-rough voice cut through the simpering tones. "I requested their input."

"Not to mention, pretty sure you need more than one adult on a gig like this. In my experience, it pays to have someone watch your back when you're supervising this many teens practicing this kind of magic." Dean grated out the words.

"Indeed. But, you'll forgive me for saying this, but why should the children be practicing? The Ministry has determined that theoretical knowledge is entirely sufficient. At least, for this phase of their education."

"Like hell it is. Trust me, lady, theoretical is almost never sufficient."

Castiel cocked his head. "I was under the impression that the exams involved a practical component."

"They do."

"Then theory is not sufficient. No one could be proficient enough to cast a spell correctly on their first try. Practice is essential." Harry wanted to cheer. "Also...it has been my experience that theory is never sufficient in the field."

"But there is no danger in Hogwarts. There are no threats to these children here. Nor anywhere they are likely to be."

Dean grinned, but it was a wolf grin, all sharp and predatory. "Yeah? Then why the hell is the forest 'forbidden'? Way I heard it, there's a passel of nasty creatures in there. Dangerous ones. And if you think slapping a 'forbidden' label on something keeps kids out, you're dumber than you look."

Umbridge bristled. Harry bit back a snicker behind his hand. Then Umbridge drew herself up to her full height. Considering that her head didn't even clear Castiel's shoulder, neither man looked impressed. "The forest aside, there is no danger to the students, either on the grounds of the school, or beyond it's walls. In accordance, the Ministry has declared that as we are in a state of peace and tranquility, there is no need for students to be practicing potentially dangerous spells, nor the casting of them. I insist you stick to theoretical studies only."

Castiel pinned her with that heavy blue stare. "I prefer to be practical. And since this is my class...I refuse." There was a hint of snark in the normally expressionless professor's voice, and more than a hint of dismissal in the way he canted his head.

Dean smirked. "What he said. Besides...you know what I've seen happen to every dressed up pansy-ass government official who says practical experience with this stuff's 'not necessary'?" The smirk went cold. "Little bitches all died. Died ugly. Died bloody. Usually at the hands of the things they didn't think were a danger to 'em. Last one I knew got eaten. One before that got possessed. So you'll excuse me if I stick to practical, and say screw you to this whole 'theory' schtick of yours."

Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at Umbridge's slack-jawed expression. Castiel was frowning a little bit, like he either didn't agree with or didn't like something Dean had said.

"Now see here!" Umbridge got her voice back. "I will not be threatened by some...foreign American...professor of dubious origins and skills!"

Dean shrugged and offered another of those shark-like smiles. "Isn't a threat. At least, not unless you make it one, lady."

Umbridge stared at him. Dean took the opportunity to turn his back on her. "So, you kids all separated out?" There was a rumble of assent. "All right. Everyone know the spells on today's list?" Another rumble of assent. "All right then. Kids on the window side, you guys attack first. You others, you defend. Cas, you help the ones who are struggling."

"Of course." Castiel nodded.

Harry was first attacker. His Jelly-Legs jinx was weaker than he liked, but it got the job done. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Castiel spoke up from behind him. "You need to put more emphasis in your wand movement." The Professor reversed the jinx with another of those wordless hand waves, then stood beside Harry. "Again."

Harry cast the spell, a little self-conscious with the Professor right next to him. Up close that sharp blue stare was extremely disconcerting. Still, he focused on making his movements crisp and strong, the way Moody and Flitwick insisted wand gestures should be. His second attempt was better.

"Good. Keep practicing." Castiel moved on.

Ron huffed as he regained his feet. "Bloody hell, he's intense."

"Yeah. He is." Harry watched the professor stop by another pair, then shook himself and returned his focus to his practice.

Dean showed up while they were practicing the Petrificus. He watched Harry drop Ron. "Good technique. Be faster if you can compress the movements a little more." He demonstrated.

Harry watched. The man was faster. Still... "Professor Castiel said I should be emphasizing my movements. He said to make them sharper."

"Yeah, well. Cas does things his way, and I do them mine. But there's no reason you can't do both. You know that right?" Dean smirked at him. "It's all about muscle control. Here. Like this." He showed Harry what he meant. "The less you telegraph during a fight the better."

"Yes sir." Harry tried it. It felt weird, but doable.

"And relax. Adrenaline's good in a fight. Tension ain't. Just makes everything harder." Dean clapped him on the back and moved on.

Harry tried to take his professor's advice. The first few times he fumbled, but gradually, he could see a difference. He _was_ faster. And the minimal movements gave Ron less time to block or counter him. Ron picked up on it soon enough.

By the end of the class, Harry felt he'd made some definite improvements. He wondered if the theory was applicable to all his classes. Well, not Potions or Herbology, as both required very little wand usage. But maybe Transfiguration and Charms.

Beyond that, there was no doubt that subtler, stronger spells would definitely be of use against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

 *****HS*****

"I hate that bitch." Dean punched a pillow, then flopped on the bed.

Sam snorted. "Let me guess...Umbridge. You had her in your class today."

"Not mine. She was in Cas's class today. Spouting off this bullshit about how practical training wasn't necessary, that theoretical was all anyone needed." Dean growled. "And making out like Cas is incompetent."

"Well, it's not like Cas is really all that practiced at being a teacher. For that matter, neither are we." Sam shut his book. "At least you didn't have her breathing down your neck over the use of a wand. She was on my case about it."

"Yeah? What did you tell her?"

"That I wasn't trained with one, but I understood the basics. I told her my teacher didn't believe in depending on something that could get taken away from you." Sam grinned. "Pretty sure I pissed her off."

"More power to you. I know I did."

Sam's expression went from amused to concerned. "Dean? What did you do?"

"He stated that people who place more value in theoretical knowledge versus practical usually die violently." Castiel entered the room. His normally impassive expression was pinched. "I find that woman...very vexing."

"Vexing. That is one word for it. Creepy witch. She's like a female version of Zachariah. Smug, superior and bossy, like the whole world is just there for her amusement."

"Yeah, well, you can't stab her with an angel blade. I'm pretty sure that will attract exactly the kind of notice we're trying to avoid." Sam glared at his brother.

Castiel frowned. "You...stabbed Zachariah with an angel blade? When did this occur? You never told me. I knew I hadn't seen him in Heaven, but I assumed he was with Raphael."

"It was when we were rescuing Adam. Pre-Apocalypse. Right after you banished yourself and almost died." Sam spoke up. "I guess we never really had time to tell you."

"Things were rather chaotic." Castiel dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Nonetheless...I confess I am somewhat relieved not to have to contend with him. Like you, I found Zachariah...extremely vexing."

"He wasn't vexing. He was a dick." Dean growled out the words. "And this bitch annoys the hell out of me. Do we know when she's leaving?"

"Whenever she's done. And don't piss her off. We need the money to get back to Bobby. And Cas needs the time to plan." Sam sighed, then glanced at the angel in the doorway. "Speaking of Heaven and Raphael...how are things on your end Cas?"

Cas rolled his shoulders in a slight shrug. "Balthazar and Rachel are taking care of things for me. The angels are currently hidden in safe places. I have...one or two plans, some more viable than others. None of them I can implement directly. Fortunately, Raphael has not yet learned of my whereabouts."

"So you have time, and you're working on a strategy. That's good." Sam offered an encouraging smile. "So...any more on that sense of dark magic, or whatever it was?"

"No. It is...diffuse. At times it appears to be strongest among my students in today's class, at times, it is more prevalent among the staff members. But who is being effected and how...I haven't been able to determine. I could do a tracking spell, but the flare of angelic energy..."

"Yeah. Don't do that. We'll figure it out some other way." Sam rolled his shoulders, then stood and stretched. "I need more practice with my spells. You guys want to come?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah. I'm good Sammy." The elder Winchester looked to be half-asleep, lounging on his pillows.

Castiel cocked his head. "I will accompany you. I could use some...pointers, I believe, on my teaching."

"Sure." Sam grinned and led the way out of the room.

 *****HS*****

Umbridge left a week later, to the relief of staff and students alike. Harry had no doubts the Ministry would continue to bother him at Hogwarts, as well as trying to discredit him and Dumbledore. The Daily Prophet was proof of that. He noticed one scathing article about the Winchesters in the paper, hinting at incompetence and ignorance, but none of the three brothers seemed all that put out about it, so he decided to leave it alone.

The class period after Umbridge departed Castiel handed out a thick roll of parchment, which proved to be a basic pronunciation guide for Enochian. Of course, considering that the parchment was some four feet in length, even with the professor's small neat writing, basic was still a lot. Harry was relieved when Sam took them through the information, and he wasn't the only one.

The following Friday, Castiel and Dean let them practice the basic shielding spell against a low powered Stupefy. It turned out to be trickier than it looked to use. Written was no problem, but the sigil flared and burned when it was impacted and they all discovered that if you didn't keep track of it, it would burn itself useless and leave you unprotected. Verbal was harder, trying to pronounce the unfamiliar words. After five years, Harry was almost used to Latin incantations, but Enochian was a bit of a tongue twister. Still, he thought he was getting the hang of it by the end of class.

He finished his classes and one of his homework assignments before dinner. By that time, he was starving. Everyone else seemed hungry too, and he wondered if it was a side effect of the spells they'd been casting. He'd noticed his appetite had increased, especially after Defense class.

He piled food high on his plate, then set himself to eating, listening to Ron and Hermione talk, and keeping an eye on the staff table. All three Winchesters were present, with plates that looked as full as his own. Sam and Dean were eating steadily, but once again, Castiel hadn't touched a bite.

Harry frowned. He hadn't seen Castiel eat a thing yet. And the man had been using magic more than anyone else in class. More even than Sam and Dean. If his theory about magical expenditure versus appetite was correct, then Castiel Winchester should be starving, and eating nearly as much as Hagrid. He finished off a bite of potatoes, and decided to address the question to the most knowledgeable person available. "Hey, Hermione."

Hermione turned him. "What is it?"

"Nothing much. Just, I noticed, I've had way more of an appetite lately. Especially after Defense. I was wondering...does it have something to do with magic, or something?"

"I imagine so. I mean, the harder you work, the more energy you expend, the more you would need to replenish your reserves. Even Muggles are like that, aren't they? My parents are. And magic...well, it does take a lot of energy. I believe that's why there are certain spells that we aren't allowed to cast before we're older. Because it would be too risky. It would depend a bit on metabolism, but I've often thought that it would be the case." Hermione frowned. "Why did you want to know?"

"No reason. Just...wondering, that's all." Harry applied himself to his food.

"Mate, we're not daft." Ron frowned at him. "Even I can tell you've got something on your mind."

Harry sighed. "It's just...I noticed it earlier, how hungry I was. And I'm always hungrier after Defense. But then, I was watching the staff table. If that logic is right, then Professor Winchester, Castiel I mean, he should be starving. I mean, look at all the magic he did in class."

"So?"

"He hasn't even touched his plate. The other two are eating enough to rival...well, anyone. Even Hagrid. But he isn't." He tipped his head towards the table.

"It could just be a special diet or something." Hermione didn't sound all that sure.

Harry shook his head. "If that's the case, why would he come down for dinner? He could just eat...wherever the professors eat, or down in the kitchens."

"Maybe it's mandatory."

Harry shook his head again. "But he comes to breakfast too, and not all the staff does. And it's always the same. I've never seen him eat."

Now Ron was scowling thoughtfully. "That is a bit dodgy. If he were that sick, he'd be up in the Infirmary."

"Maybe. Either way, we won't figure it out right now. It's best to just eat our dinners and keep watch. We can sort it all out later." Hermione delivered a pointed look at Harry's plate. Harry took the hint and started to dig in.

His scar prickled, and Harry rubbed at it in annoyance. It had bothered him off and on for weeks now, and it was irritating the hell out of him.

 *****HS*****

Dean was halfway through his second plate of food, and Sam was almost done with his first when Castiel tensed up. It was subtle, a quick tightening of the shoulders and furrowing of the brow, his head cocking ever so slightly, as if he had sensed something no one else had.

Sam picked up on it immediately, Dean only a half-second behind him. "Cas?"

"The dark magic I've been sensing. It's stronger." Cas's voice was soft, clearly trying not to be overheard. "Just now, it surged."

"Yeah. Can you get a bead on it?" Castiel frowned, and Dean rephrased. "Can you tell where it's coming from?"

"There's a source among the students, but it's too faint for me to pinpoint. There's another source much closer. The dark-haired teacher. The one who teaches Potions."

"What? Professor Snape?" Sam's tone was hesitant.

"Yes." Castiel's tone was certain.

Just then, Snape pushed his plate to the side, drained his glass, and pushed himself to his feet. "If you will excuse me." He turned to leave.

Dean scowled, then shoved himself upward too. Sam caught his arm as Dean made to follow the professor. "Dean. What the hell?"

"Dark magic Sammy? No way I'm putting up with that crap. Not here. There's too much at risk. You. Cas." Dean's voice was low and tense. "I want to know what he's doing."

"Dean, I don't think..." Sam swore as his brother broke his grip. "Dean!"

"Hey!" Dean's voice caught the attention of the rest of the staff. Snape turned, his hand on the handle of the staff door. Dean stalked up to him. "You're sure in a rush to leave dinner all of a sudden."

"I've had all I desire. And I have pressing business elsewhere." Snape's voice was low and controlled, icy enough to match the scowl on his thin features.

"Yeah, I'll just bet you do." Dean stalked closer, backing the other man to the wall. His voice was low as he snarled at Snape. "See, here's the thing. My brother, Cas, he's got this thing. This gift. He can sense dark magic. People who use it, people who have used it." He caught Snape's shoulders, shoving him up against the wall. "And you know what? He says you positively _reek_ of dark magic."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're referring to." Snape's voice could have frozen a lake in high summer. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"No. I don't think I will." Dean shoved him back again. "There's kids here. And I'm not letting you out of my sight until I know what the hell is going on."

"Dean..." Sam's voice held a warning that came too late.

"Release me." Magic sparked between the two men in response to Snape's snarl. Seconds later, a pulse of magic shoved Dean backward, sending him to the floor.

Snape turned to leave. Dean scrambled back to his feet. "Hey!" He catapulted himself at Snape, just as the door opened.

The collision slammed both men into the door. Snape hit the wood and steel hard, hard enough to wrench a hiss of pain from him. Dean wrenched him back around.

"That is enough." Dumbledore was there in the next second, right beside Sam. Sam and Castiel pulled Dean back. "Professor Winchester, you will cease immediately."

"Dean. Apologize." Sam's voice was stern. "You're being unprofessional."

"I concur." Castiel spoke softly from Dean's other side.

Dean scowled. "Cas. You said it yourself. This guy stinks of dark magic..."

"I am well aware of Professor Snape's condition. Unfortunately, it is somewhat necessary, in light of some of the tasks which I have asked him to fulfill for me. Speaking of which, I believe you have something now, do you not, Severus?" Dumbledore's mild blue stare fixed on Snape.

Snape was breathing harshly, a smear of blood on his lip and under his nose. Still, he managed to compose himself. "I was just leaving Headmaster." Without another word, he turned and disappeared through the door.

Dumbledore turned to the Winchesters. "In the future, I ask that you see me in regards to any questions you may have about any of the students or members of the staff. Among other things, we are meant to be setting an example for the students, and any more such outbursts will force me to seriously reconsider your contracts within this institution. Is that understood?" His voice was stern.

"Yes sir." Sam nodded.

"Of course." Castiel glared at Dean. "Dean."

"I understand. I'm sorry for causing a disturbance." Dean nodded.

"Apology accepted. Now, if you don't mind, there is some excellent pudding being served for dessert. Please, take your seats." Dumbledore returned to his chair and the three Winchesters followed suit.

 *****HS*****

Harry was paying more attention to finishing his food than the staff table when he heard one of the Winchesters shout. His head snapped up, just in time to see Dean Winchester confront Snape. He caught his breath.

Snape looked pissed. So did Dean. Harry couldn't hear anything either man said, not from where they were, but he could see the tension in both men, and he certainly didn't miss it when the Winchester brother collared Snape and flung him against the wall.

"Woah. Dude's taking on Snape. Wonder what started that?" Seamus Finnegan was wide-eyed. "Think they'll pound each other bloody?"

"Snape sure looks out for blood." Dean Thomas spoke up.

Just then, Professor Winchester was blasted backward. He was up on his feet faster than Harry would have believed possible, tackling Snape hard into the door Snape had pulled open. From where Harry was sitting, it looked like Snape took the worst of it, caught between the other professor and the door. Harry smirked.

Then it was over. Dean's brothers were yanking him back, and Dumbledore was stepping between them. Whatever the Headmaster said was too low to be heard, but there was no mistaking his displeasure at what had happened. Or that it was the Winchesters he was displeased with.

Still, Harry could take some satisfaction from the thin line of red on Snape's face. Clearly, he'd gotten at least a bloody nose out of the altercation.

He watched as Snape was dismissed and everyone else returned to the table. Moments later, dessert appeared, and Harry dug in with a will.

He wasn't sorry to see Snape get a pounding. Not at all. Still, he had to wonder why the other professor had gone after him like that. The Winchesters were supposed to be from America. It wasn't like they would have had a history, the way Snape and Remus did. Or like Snape and Sirius.

So why? Had Snape done something to the other professor?

Or did it have something to do with Snape's obvious tie to Voldemort? Or did it have something to do with all the secrets the Winchesters were keeping?

Harry dug into his trifle, and tried to think of a way he could find out.

 *****HS*****

Sam was livid by the time they returned to the Room of Requirement for after-dinner practice. He rounded on Dean as soon as the door shut. "Damn it Dean! What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Dean snarled right back. "You heard Cas! Bastard was lit up with dark magic."

"Yeah. But we don't know the reason. You had no reason to attack him." Sam scrubbed a hand through his hair. "God, I cannot believe you are so thoughtless Dean."

Dean scowled. "If he's messing with black magic, that makes him one of the things we hunt. You know that Sammy."

"But we don't know that's what he's doing. Dean, you and I both know there are lots of reasons to be touched by dark magic. I had demon blood. Even before I went off the rails with Ruby, I still had Azazel's taint in me. And it was always more noticeable when I had the visions. Was that my fault? You spent time in hell. You think that didn't mark you? Cause we both know it did." Sam huffed in frustration.

"Technically, Dean bears no taint from his time in hell. I purified him when I raised him. However, you are correct that if Dean had not been rescued by the Host of Heaven, he would indeed be significantly marked by his time in the pit." Cas interjected the words. The angel shifted uncomfortably as both brothers turned to look at him. "On the other hand, I did use souls from Hell to challenge Raphael, and I did raise Sam from hell, so it's possible I could be tainted." He looked away. "And both of you have used magic of various questionable forms during and since the Apocalypse."

"Yeah. Fine. But we all know something is going on in this place." Dean scowled. "Come on, government officials inspecting a school like that? It's bullshit!"

"Yeah. No kidding. I've been reading some of the papers. You know, just to stay informed, since these guys don't have computers or wi-fi. There's...I don't know what it is exactly. But there's been a lot of bad press about this school, about the Headmaster, and one of the students." He paused. "Hang on..."

A stack of papers appeared in the corner of the room, along with a table. Sam spread them out. "See, here. All these articles."

Cas picked up one and began reading it with studied concentration. Dean skimmed the headlines. "Boy-Who-Lied? Headmaster a Fraud? What the hell?"

"This boy is in my class." Castiel was studying one paper.

"Yeah. Harry Potter. Apparently he's some super special kid, or at least he was. Now he's considered a deranged attention seeker or something. I haven't got the full details yet. The thing is...if you get off the first page, there's a lot of reports on...well, the newspaper is calling them accidents, or the work of random dangerous radicals, but...if you take them with the articles on the kid and the Headmaster..."

"You think it's a frame job." Dean picked up one of the papers.

"No. I think this kid saw something the government doesn't want the public to know about. Either that, or he saw something that no one wants to believe." Sam sighed.

"And you think this has something to do with Professor Snape?" Castiel frowned.

"I think we can't afford to assume anything. I mean, whether we get mixed up in this or we don't, there's something going on here." Sam combed his hands through his hair again.

Dean scowled. "We didn't come here to get mixed up in some...some witch-hunt, or some power play. We came here to rest up, take a break, and let Cas take a breather. That's all."

"Yeah. I know. So...we don't get involved. But that doesn't mean we can ignore it. And it definitely does mean that we should be careful about who we mess with, and what we poke our noses into. That includes teachers who might or might not be using dark magic." Sam glared at his brother. "Agreed?"

"Yeah. Fine." Dean glared back, then turned around a kicked at the wall.

"Great. Then let's get to work. You and I both have spells to learn, and then we have hunting practice to get to." The Room shimmered around them as Sam made his request known, forming into a training ground. Dean scowled at the door again, then followed his brother's lead.

 _ **Author's Note:** So there you have it..._

 _I never intended for the Ministry or Umbridge to be a big feature in this story, but I couldn't resist slipping her in there._


	5. Chapter 5: Reconciliation

**Chapter Five: Reconciliation**

Sam rose early next morning. He'd always been a fan of running for exercise. He'd had to curtail his activity some with the Apocalypse, not wanting to make a bigger target of himself than he was in general. Since he'd been rescued from Hell, however, he'd taken up running again. The exercise felt good. Now that they weren't getting a daily or near-daily workout with hunting, he valued the additional exercise. He'd taken to making a quick circuit or three around the castle grounds each morning, before classes. Despite the increasing bite of the air, he enjoyed the time outside, letting his body soak up the fresh air, reveling in the burn of a solid workout and the sweat that testified to a good effort.

Castiel wasn't in the room when he got up, but that was hardly unusual. Cas did have a habit of wandering the castle at all hours. Not needing sleep left the angel with a lot of time on his hands. Sam suspected he simply enjoyed the quiet, or took time to meditate, or even to sneak into the library and do research. Or maybe even to contact his subordinates.

Sam got dressed in his work-out sweats, finished his warm-up, then headed towards the front doors, taking the halls at a jog for a bit of a cardio boost. Normally he'd have done the same with the stairs, but the way they moved still unnerved him a bit too much.

He got to the front doors and yanked them open. They were heavy, but manageable. He got them open enough to slide through, then stopped.

Severus Snape was standing on the front steps. Sam looked him over, and decided that standing was a generous interpretation. The dark-haired professor looked barely able to keep his feet. He still had the split lip from his confrontation with Dean. He was also cradling his left arm close to his side, and his expression was pinched, pale and drawn. He stood with the stiff, slightly hunched posture that Sam recognized from hunts, indicating painful and potentially serious injuries.

Snape saw him, and an expression of angry disdain slammed down over his face, masking the pain. "What do you want?"

"Nothing really. Just...since you're here, maybe we could talk for a second?" Sam kept his posture relaxed and easy, as non-threatening as possible.

A sneer curled Snape's lip. "Decided to finish what your brother started?" Despite the derisive tone, Sam saw the other man stiffen, and the flicker of wood as Snape palmed his wand.

"No. Not at all. Actually..." Sam grimaced and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I kind of wanted to apologize for what Dean did. Dean is...well, he's not a bad person, but he can be hot-headed and impulsive, and sometimes...sometimes my brother is a jerk. And when it comes to dark magic, well, he can go from jerk to bastard in a hurry. I've actually had some first-hand experience with that. So...I just wanted to say I'm sorry I didn't manage to stop him from laying into you."

Snape didn't relax an inch. "Very well. You've apologized. If you'll excuse me..."

"Wait." Sam extended a hand, cutting the man off. "Look...just..." he sighed. "I don't know what the hell is going on around here. But I can tell you're injured. Since it's probably partly Dean's fault…I can help. I've patched up a few people in my time."

Snape straightened stiffly. "Why would I need your help?"

"Because you're hurt. And because I'm here. And because it's easier than treating yourself or getting to the Hospital Wing. And you don't strike me as the type to like professional medical attention all that much." Sam didn't bother to sugar-coat his words. "Unless you've got someone better in mind."

Snape eyed him for several moments. Sam stared back. Then the Potions Master relaxed, just a little. "Very well." He made his way inside. Sam followed him.

He hadn't had much reason to go down towards the dungeon area of Hogwarts. He and Dean had done a cursory exploration of the area when they'd agreed to live in the Castle, mostly because Bobby would skin them six ways from Tuesday if they went back and he ever found out they'd lived in a place without checking it out as thoroughly as possible. But it was cold down there, and darker than the rest of the castle, and neither of them had lingered.

Darkness brought out too many memories for both of them. Cas had probably seen more of the place, but as near as Sam could tell, the angel didn't have nearly as many hang-ups as the rest of them did. At least, not about the dark.

He followed Snape down into the dungeons to a large painting. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Snape reached up with his good arm and tapped the edge of the painting twice, muttering something Sam couldn't quite make out. The painting swung open, and Sam followed him inside.

The room beyond the painting was clearly meant to be a safe room. Bed along one wall, sofa in the center. Fireplace. Book shelves near the bed with several books moved around. Small desk to one side. Door to what he'd guess was a bathroom. And most notably, a large set of shelves with everything a recovering patient might need, from potions to bandages to spare clothes. All in all, it looked like the rooms Bobby kept for them, though a lot less cluttered and a lot less comfortable.

Snape made straight for the potions cabinet. Sam went to the fireplace and got a fire going. It had been chilly outside, and he had no idea how long Snape had been exposed to the elements.

He turned to find the man standing by the small side table next to the couch, lining up rows of bottles with a methodical precision that Sam recognized. Any hunter would, especially hunters like Sam and Dean, who didn't normally have the luxury of hitting a hospital.

He stood up. "Here." He didn't recognize all the potions, but they were all labeled. He read the label off of one, frowning as he tried to sort it out. "Anti-Cruciatus?"

"Cruciatus. One of the three Unforgivable curses. If your American education did not cover it, it is a curse used exclusively to torture it's victims." Snape snarled out the words. He looked a little better than he had, but not by much.

Sam winced. "I guess I should have realized from the Latin." He glanced at the other man. "Look, why don't you just...sit down and we'll take it from there. Okay? My American education may not cover curses very well, but trust me, I'm an expert on first aid."

Snape settled stiffly on the couch. Sam crouched in front of him, knowing it would be easier if he wasn't towering over the other man. "So...there's probably some sort of diagnostic spell, but since I don't know it, we're gonna have to do this the old fashioned way. Starting with you telling me what hurts."

Snape gave him a dark smile. "Everything."

Well, if the man was expecting him to be shocked, or ask for clarification, he wasn't going to. After all, he'd spent time in hell. With Lucifer. He doubted there was anything Snape could tell him that would shock him. He just nodded. "Okay. So..." He glanced at the row of potions. He didn't see anything for pain, but after a moment he picked up the Anti-Cruciatus. "Would this one help for the general pain symptoms, and can you take it now?"

"Yes." Something seemed to spark in Snape's eyes. Surprise. Maybe a little respect. Sam uncorked the potion and handed it to him. Snape downed the bottle.

"How long till that takes effect?" Sam settled back. He wasn't sure how fast potions worked in comparison to the pain-killers he was used to.

"There is some immediate relief. The last symptoms will fade within the next two hours." Snape handed the bottle back.

"Huh. That's pretty impressive." Sam set the bottle. "So...since it's really hard to treat a person through clothing...I hate to say it, but I think we need to remove some of this." He gestured to the layers of Snape's robes.

Snape nodded stiffly. He reached up, but seemed to have trouble with the buttons. After letting him work at them for a moment, Sam gestured. "May I? I'm pretty sure it'll be faster." Snape stared at him for a moment, then dropped his hand to lie in his lap.

Sam worked the buttons open, keeping his movements quick and professional. He got the outer robe off, then the jacket, then finally the high-collared white dress shirt. He didn't bother with the trousers just yet. There was no tell-tale blood dripping to indicate a life threatening injury to the lower extremities, and everything else could wait.

Snape's torso and arms were a mass of bruises, with a few lacerations. Sam tallied up the bruises and such, adding the split lip and bloody nose Dean had given the man into the count, then ran him through a check for broken bones or internal bleeding. He found what felt like a partially dislocated left shoulder, a couple cracked ribs, and a wrist that might have a hairline fracture. There might have been a couple bone bruises, and the man's muscles were tight, the kind of tight that usually dictated a soak in a tub or some of Bobby's liniment.

The first thing was to set the shoulder. He glanced at Snape. "I can reset your shoulder so it has full mobility. But it's gonna hurt a little."

Snape gave him another of those dark looks. "I require full mobility."

"Right." He stood up and got into position, setting his hands carefully in place. Snape tensed. "I need you to relax." After a moment, Snape did, at least enough that he thought he could re-set the shoulder. "Okay. On three. One. Two..." He snapped the shoulder into place with a quick movement, hearing the pop and feeling the shift that indicated he'd done it right. "Three."

Snape glared at him. "That was not..."

"Yeah. I know. Sorry. It's an old trick I learned from Bobby. Most people tense up again on the count, so he always does it early." Sam moved back off the couch. "But your shoulder is back in. Give it a couple days, and it should be good as new."

Snape shifted the arm, testing the range of motion. "Indeed." He rotated it. "That was...simpler than I had expected."

"Yeah. Bobby's a good teacher." Sam eyed the potions, then picked up something that sounded like an anti-biotic ointment. "I'm guessing this is for cleaning injuries."

"Yes." Snape nodded.

"Great." Sam opened the jar. "Let's get started then."

He dabbed the salve into the first laceration. Snape hissed. Sam didn't look up. Instead, he spoke up casually. "So...did you make all these?"

"Of course." Snape's voice was tight, but under it was a thread of professional pride.

"Wow. That's really impressive. My brother and I...we learned to mix a few things, but nothing like this. And certainly nothing this good." He grimaced. "Honestly, our formal education was seriously lacking. Especially in magic. Our dad...well, let's just say he wasn't a fan."

"He did not see to your magical education."

"Not at all. Bobby taught us a few spells, mostly hunter stuff. That's really what Dean and I are. Hunters. Not wizards. We only just found out that we could use magic. Magic like this, I mean."

"If you had no magic, then none of the spells you were taught would have worked." Snape's voice was biting. He sounded a bit like Bobby at his most exasperated.

"I guess. Didn't really think about it like that." Sam treated the last of the cuts, then studied the potions. "Anything here used to stop the bleeding?"

"Dittany. It will seal the wound and heal it at an accelerated rate."

Sam snagged the potion labeled dittany, and began dabbing it into the wounds. They sealed almost before his eyes. "Impressive."

He finished with that, then picked up the Bruise Salve. He knew from experience that having anything rubbed into bruises could hurt, so he started the conversation again. "You know, I've actually been meaning to ask if you could give me some pointers. I know I won't learn everything about Potions in a year, not even close, but if I could get the basics down, that would be really helpful. Stuff like this, like the stuff you made here, that would be really valuable for hunters. With all the injuries we get, we really need stuff like this."

"You wish to learn about Potions." Snape's voice was flat.

"Yeah. Like I said, it seems pretty useful." Sam kept his concentration on smoothing the bruise salve evenly over the dark patches on Snape's skin. And on being careful to avoid putting too much pressure on the tender skin.

There was a long silence. Then Snape spoke, his voice almost toneless. "You have not asked."

Sam paused. He kept his own voice level when he replied. "About the Potions? No. I haven't really had time, what with the school year."

"About my injuries, and how they were acquired."

"Yeah." Sam finished with the last visible bruise, then sat back on his heels to look Snape in the eye. "The Headmaster said you were doing business for him. If I had to guess, I'd say it's related to all the stuff that I've been reading about in the paper. With the Headmaster, and that kid, and the alleged return of this He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named character. Maybe even with the number of weird disasters that I've been reading about."

Snape stiffened. Sam sighed and ran his hand, the clean one, through his hair. "Look. My brother and I are hunters. We usually go after this kind of stuff. That's kind of why Dean was so wound up yesterday. You set off his hunting instincts. But, like I told him, we don't know the details. And we didn't come here to hunt. We came to Scotland to do Bobby a favor. We stayed because we're broke, and because we needed a break from hunting. Dean and I...we got into some serious trouble last year. We were in serious trouble for the two years before that. We're both still recovering. And Cas...Cas has his own problems. He needs a break too. So...bottom line is...whatever is going on, it's your business, not ours. So unless you're just really burning to tell me, then I really don't need to know. You were taking care of business. Something happened. You got banged up. From what you said, you got tortured. I can help, and I did. End of story."

"You speak of torture so casually." Snape's voice had gone cold.

Sam grimaced. "I was...captured, for a while. By a seriously nasty guy. Cas got me out and fixed me up, but if he hadn't...I don't want to know. I just don't." He still had nightmares about Hell. And Lucifer. He'd been down there for longer than Dean had. He didn't have his brother's memories of the rack and being forced to torture other souls, but the memories he did have were why he didn't protest when Dean played the 'Cas, knock us out' card. And, he suspected, why Cas always complied.

He sometimes wondered what Cas had seen, what Cas had endured, getting them both out of hell. But he'd never asked, because he honestly did not want to know, ever. He didn't want to know what all had happened to Dean, before or after he'd surrendered to Alistair. He didn't want Dean to know what Lucifer had done to him. And he didn't want to know what price Cas had paid to save both of them. He wasn't sure he could handle it.

He sighed again. "It's not that I don't care, or that it doesn't bother me. It's just...after what happened to Dean and I...I can't afford to focus too much on it." He sat up straight, looking the Potions Professor in the eye. "Look, I don't want to talk about it, and you probably don't either. But trust me when I say that nothing you could come up with would shock me. Not with where I was. But...what happened to me and my brothers also means that I would never discount what someone else has gone through."

Snape stared at him, black eyes sharp and calculating. When he spoke, his voice was hard. "When you speak of Cas...I assume that you speak of your brother, Castiel Winchester." His eyes hardened. "The man who so kindly set your other brother on me by telling him that I was a practitioner of dark magic."

Sam grimaced. "Actually, what Cas said was that you were _marked_ by dark magic. He never said you used it. Just that it marked you, and that he felt the presence of it intensify. To be honest, he's been tracking that feeling for weeks. See, we have this problem with demons, every now and then. Cas is just more aware of that kind of stuff than we are, so...yeah. He said you were marked, and that there was another source among the students that he couldn't pinpoint. The rest of it was Dean being a jerk."

Snape's left arm flexed, hand curling into a fist as he pulled it closer. Close enough to hide the ugly skull-and-snake tattoo that Sam had seen earlier. He'd wondered about it, given that the Potion's Master didn't seem the tattoo type. He had a sudden feeling that, whatever that was, it was the source of the dark magic Cas had sensed. Not that he was going to ask.

Instead, he shrugged. "Look. If you're worried about me...I'm not one to judge. I've had my fair share of run-in's with dark magic. In fact, that's kind of how my magic was originally jump-started. This...guy, he kind of...well, cursed me, I guess. Upside, I got visions I could use to save people. And I learned how to do other things to save people. But, I got addicted to the darker side of things. Eventually, I just kind of lost myself. Really screwed up. Dean and Bobby had to lock me away in this panic room for a long time to get me over it. Even now, I'm probably still a risk. I just...well, I like to think I've learned better."

He grabbed a roll of bandages, fiddling with it to distract himself. He wasn't sure why he was telling Snape everything. He wasn't sure if it was sympathy for the other man's plight, or if it was just for himself. For the way he thought Snape might get it.

Cas was an angel. He'd done crazy things, yeah, but he did good things, even if the rest of Heaven didn't agree. He'd never done what Sam had. And Dean...yeah, Dean had done horrible things, but he'd done them either to save someone he loved, or because he'd been backed into a corner and forced beyond his endurance. As far as Sam was concerned, that wasn't Dean. But him...the stuff with the demon blood, with listening to Ruby and jump-starting the Apocalypse, he'd done that simply because he thought he was special. Chosen. So self-important, saving the world, that the means didn't matter, just the ends. Even when everyone had warned him, he'd kept going. Right up until it was almost too late.

There was silence between them for several minutes. Then Sam shook himself out of his negative thoughts. "So...I just need to wrap these bandages and you should be good to go. Well, maybe take another pain potion or something."

Snape shook his head and lifted his arms so Sam could bandage his ribs. Sam wrapped the bandages quickly and efficiently, making sure they were tight enough to stay secured. He finished by tying them off low. "Okay. Is there anything below the waist you need me to take care of?"

"No." Snape shook his head, then levered himself to his feet. "I will attend to the rest." His eyes flicked to a clock Sam hadn't particularly noticed before. "Breakfast will start soon. It would be best if both of us were in attendance. And if you were more...suitably dressed." His dark gaze flicked over Sam's sweats.

Sam flushed a little. "Uh...True. I should go change. Besides, Dean will probably send Cas out after me if I don't turn up soon." He stretched, then turned to leave, only to be stopped by Snape, speaking again.

"I have a very busy schedule. I do not necessarily have time to waste teaching a grown man and professor the things he should have learned years ago."

Sam paused. "Yeah, well...I'm actually a quick study. So, you know, if you just wanted to let me assist you while you're brewing whatever you need for the school, and you were willing to answer my questions while we're working, that would be great. I might not be good enough to make a potion starting out, but I can grind and chop and prep things. And after life as a hunter, I've got a pretty cast-iron system." He shrugged. "I just need to know where to start, mostly."

There was a moment, and then Snape spoke again. "There is a lab, two doors down from this room. I will be working there tonight after supper. Come, if you are truly so inclined to learn."

"Lab, two doors down after supper. Got it. I'll see you then." Sam nodded. "Does it look like a door, or like another painting?"

"Like a door. But locked, to most of the students and faculty. Knock when you arrive, and I will release the wards."

"Got it." Sam nodded. He heard the sound of the bathroom door shutting, and guessed he'd been dismissed. He left the room, shut the painting carefully behind him, and broke into a jog down the corridor. He grinned as he broke into the Entrance Hall and started up the stairs.

He hadn't gotten his run in, but he thought he might have managed something far more important.

 _ **Author's Note:** Yeah...I didn't want them to be on the outs with Snape. And I think Sam and Snape would just sort of...suit each other. _


	6. Chapter 6: In The Air

**Chapter Six: In the Air**

Sam made his way to the lab directly after dinner, carrying a tin of Bobby's muscle ointment in one pocket. Dean hadn't been happy when he'd mentioned what he'd be doing, but Cas had backed him up. Sam had shared his suspicions about Snape with both of them, and Dean had reluctantly agreed that they should watch him. Besides, even he was a fan of medicine that worked in less than half the time that regular stuff did.

He knocked on the door politely. There was a shimmer in the air, like looking through glass, or water, and then the snick of a lock. He took that as a sign to let himself in.

Snape was already working away when he showed up, multiple cauldrons over various fires. He gestured at a pile of plants on one table as Sam came in. "Those need to be chopped fine and put in that cauldron..." He indicated a smallish one closest to the table of leaves. "...to stew."

Sam nodded. "Sure. Got any spare knives? My hunting knife isn't the best for this." Not that it couldn't be used, but Sam suspected that Snape appreciated proper instruments.

Snape jerked his head towards a cabinet. Sam opened it to find equipment of all kinds. He searched through the knives to find one suited to chopping that was sharp enough for him. He took it to the sink and cleaned it, as a precaution, then went back to the table. "When you say fine...how fine? I mean, more like herbs for seasoning, or more like grated cheese fine? Or, like chopping onions?"

Snape raised his head to stare at him a moment. Then he turned back to his cauldron. "The finer the better."

Sam nodded and set to work. It had been a while since he'd done anything like this, but it was simple work, easier than many things he did in hunting. Before long, he'd fallen into a rhythm. The methodical thump of the knife was almost hypnotizing.

Finally it was done. He took a sample to Snape. "This fine enough?"

Snape glanced at it. "Yes."

He went back, dumped the leaves in the cauldron. It smoked a little, giving off a sharp herbal scent. A scent Sam thought he recognized. He blinked. "This is...dittany?"

That earned him a sharp glance, followed by a slow nod. "It is."

Sam relaxed, studying the cauldron. "Is this the whole potion, or just the base?"

Snape didn't even look up that time. "Dittany potion requires very little. The hardest task is to draw out the full potency of the leaves in a liquid form. Finely chopped, stewed, and drained has been know to produce the best results. Though it sometimes mixed with other herbs to enhance the strength. I find that to be unnecessary, if the dittany is properly chopped, and risky besides. Dittany is fairly innocuous of it's own, but most enhancing herbs can have unfortunate side effects, particularly if mixed with other potions in the bloodstream." He looked at the cauldron. "Leave that. It will take time." He tilted his head at another table, this one with a pile of bug carcasses. "I need those ground. A fine powder, and put it in a marble bowl."

"Fine powder, marble bowl. Got it." Sam went back to the cabinet to get the appropriate items and got to work. Closer inspection revealed they weren't actual dead bugs, just what looked like beetle carapaces. "Are these beetle?"

"Scarab. No questions for the next three minutes." Snape's tone was sharp, but it was the distracted type of sharpness Sam recognized in both himself and Bobby during a research project. Snape needed to focus on something.

He settled in to grind the carapaces, watching Snape. The man was stirring another cauldron. He seemed to be timing the stirs very carefully. With no timepiece visible, Snape was probably judging the tempo of the stirs in his head. Which would require concentration. Sam went back to his work, wondering what about potions might require a specific stirring tempo.

Finally the Potions Master relaxed and pulled the stirrer out of the cauldron."It will steep for the better part of an hour. If you have questions, I will answer them now."

"Thanks." Sam continued grinding. "So...it looked like you had a specific tempo. Is that important for Potions, or just a specific ritual for you?"

Snape blinked at him. "For this potion, it is essential to time the stirs exactly. For others, it is less critical. The type of Potion determines many of the necessary parameters." Snape paused, then added "The direction is also important. Some potions require clockwise motions, some counter-clockwise."

"Huh. Does anyone know why? I mean, are there rules you can use to figure that out, or specific ingredients or reactions that dictate the patterns?" Sam paused to study the ground scarab carapaces, then decided that a little further grinding wouldn't hurt.

"There are...commonalities. However, it would take a Master's education to keep track of all of them." Snape sounded almost pleased, and certainly more relaxed.

"So I'm really just better off reading the instructions and asking for assistance." Sam nodded, then offered the professor the bowl for inspection. "How are these?"

Snape inspected the powder, running a finger through it and gauging the fineness of the grain with sharp eyes. "It will do." He took the bowl and set it beside a specific cauldron. "You have some talent in this area, and you ask intelligent questions."

"I've always been interested in different things. With my dad, we focused on hunting lore, and basic...well, the stuff we needed to get the job done. But, I can see the benefit of Potions, and I'll probably never have a decent teacher again, so...I want to make the most of it."

Snape studied his face. "There are schools in America."

"Yeah. But I'd have to find them, and there's no guarantee that they'd take me. Especially since I'm not a kid, as you pointed out. Plus, I'm not sure Dean would be willing to stay in one place long enough. And..." He grimaced. "We're kind of well known in the States. And not really in a good way. Even if Dean and Cas agreed, I might not have the chance." He shrugged. "Here I can at least learn the basics, enough to maybe be of use to Dean and Bobby when we get back, and I can get some resources to keep learning, some books and all. Speaking of which..." He glanced around the lab. "If you've got some recommendations, I'd appreciate it."

Snape considered, then pointed him to a pile of beans. "Crush those and drain the juice into those decanters..." He pointed to a stack of small jars. "And I will collect some study materials for you." He turned and made his way to a door on the far side of the room.

Sam set to crushing the beans. They were a pearly lavender, and released a soothing scent. He had to be careful not to press too hard, but other than that the task was fairly simple.

Snape returned 15 minutes later with a stack of books, which he set on a nearby table. "These are the student texts, and a few supplementary documents that students who actually care about their studies use for essays. Should you read through these, you will have a fairly decent grounding in Potions theory. After that, it is a matter of practice, and learning through experience."

"Thanks." Sam nodded his appreciation. He might have said more, but Snape turned to one of the cauldrons. He stared at it intently for a moment, then began to add the scarab carapaces in measured amounts, stirring twice between each addition. Sam let him work, content to focus on his beans.

Finally the beans were done. By the look of it, so were three of Snape's four potions. At the very least, the fires had been put out. Sam put down his knife, and Snape picked up two of the decanters and went back to the still-simmering potion. He poured both decanters into the cauldron in a steady stream. The potion hissed and changed color, before fading into a light bluish-lavender.

Snape doused that flame. Sam took that as a sign that he was finished and stepped closer. "So...what's this?"

"Dreamless Sleep. An excellent antidote to poor sleep or nightmares, but dangerous if taken too long." Snape ladled it into phials. "In smaller doses, it can soothe anxiety. In extreme cases, it may be used to combat such conditions as night terrors, though there is some risk involved."

"Yeah. But I can see how it would be useful. And easy to abuse." Sam grimaced, thinking of his own nightmares. And of how he'd been just after Jess had died, unable to sleep more than one or two hours at a time. "If you've got a spare ladle, I can help you with that. And with these others." He gestured to the other potions."

"That one needs to continue simmering." Snape pointed to the small cauldron with the dittany, which still had a low fire burning under it. "And that one..." He indicated a larger cauldron. "Must settle and thicken. It is meant to be a burn paste."

"Got it." Sam nodded, then went to the supplies cabinet. A search revealed another ladle and more phials. He collected them and, at Snape's nod of approval, began filling the vials.

An hour later, everything had been bottled, labeled and stored. Sam cracked his shoulders. He hadn't done much, but he felt good about what he had accomplished. Across the table, Snape also stretched. He checked the two remaining potions, then nodded and waved a hand across both cauldrons, covering them in a faint shimmer that looked like the same ward that had blocked the door. "That is all that can be done for tonight."

"Great." Sam nodded. "Thanks for the lesson." He hesitated. "Umm...is there a way we can schedule more of these sessions?"

"My schedule is erratic. However, I will send you a message or advise you over dinner if I am planning another session and can spare the concentration." Snape blinked.

"That sounds fine." Sam nodded. "Thank you Professor."

"Severus." Sam blinked and one corner of Snape's mouth twitched in a faint sneer. "Given that we shall be working together, you are permitted to use my given name."

"Thanks...Severus. In that case...call me Sam."

"Short for Samuel?"

"Yeah. But no one calls me that. Not even Cas." Sam grinned. "Although, if you prefer it, I'm okay with it." He shrugged. "It's better than Dean. He insists on calling me Sammy, like I'm five."

"Samuel then." Severus nodded. "I will bid you good evening." With that he turned and vanished through the door on the far wall, which shut behind him.

Sam collected the books Snape had left him, set the tin of ointment he'd brought on the table in their place, and left as well.

 *****HS*****

The weeks passed, and October faded slowly towards November. Harry was kept busy with his school-work, though he also had Quidditch. He had been nominated Captain, but had backed off in favor of Alicia Johnson, the Seventh Year Chaser. He was content to play Seeker. With everything else, he didn't think he'd have the energy or time to manage the team. Besides, he didn't envy anyone the task of keeping Fred and George disciplined.

Castiel's classes were much smoother now that the other two Winchesters were helping, but that didn't make it easy. Their regular spell revisions were being interspersed with Enochian, and even Hermione was having some difficulty with that. Harry hadn't seen her struggle with classes since she'd had the disaster with her boggart in Third Year, but Enochian tripped her up as badly as it did the rest of them.

A part of it was that the words themselves were so alien. The syllables were difficult, and being sure to pair them with the proper sigil or say them in the proper order was harder than it seemed. Castiel was patient with them, helping them work through things, but Harry found himself frustrated. He'd always been good at Defense, and he was determined to excel now. He was certain it would give him an edge over Voldemort, but the Enochian didn't come nearly as easily as Defense had previous years.

In fact, it reminded him of his efforts to produce a Patronus in Third Year. The comparison spurred him to spend long hours practicing, tracing and retracing the sigils on his own, poring over the incantations.

The hardest part was that it was wandless magic, which made it more difficult. He hadn't realized until Castiel came how much he used his wand and depended on it.

In the meantime, he watched his teachers. There were no more altercations with Snape, which was sort of disappointing. In fact, it looked like the younger professor, Sam Winchester, had even formed some sort of relationship with the Git. At the very least, Harry spotted them talking on several occasions.

No matter how hard he watched, he couldn't catch Castiel Winchester eating. He tried to ignore it, but it nagged at him, like a sore tooth or a healing bruise. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about the professor, and he wasn't about to discount his instincts. Not with the professors he'd had in previous years.

Then November came, with colder weather and the advent of Quidditch season. Halloween passed with absolutely no incidents, for which Harry was grateful. But following Halloween, Alicia increased practices to nearly every evening. She wasn't nearly as fanatical as Wood had been, but the pace was still grueling, especially with the amount of homework Harry had. Between Quidditch and classes, he had no time to ponder the mysteries of the Winchesters. He was almost glad that he wasn't a Prefect. He couldn't imagine those duties on top of everything else he had to do. Ron spent most of the time looking stressed, and even Hermione appeared tired most evenings.

Finally, the day of the first match arrived. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Harry dressed for the match early and ate a solid breakfast, despite his usual pre-match nerves. He was looking forward to squashing Malfoy on the field. Ginny and Ron had also tried out and accepted reserve positions (the first time Harry could remember even having reserves), so they were dressed in uniform as well. Ron looked a little nervous, but Ginny was calm and collected. Harry watched her eating her toast and eggs, marveling at her cool. He was torn between wanting to see her play and hoping she didn't. After all, she was the reserve Seeker. Though she could take a Chaser position too. Harry thought that might be okay.

Two hours later, the teams marched out onto the field in the freezing weather. The sky was overcast, but not raining, which was a plus. Harry wasn't fond of playing matches in the rain. It was cold, but Angelina had applied Warming Charms to all the uniforms, so he wasn't too uncomfortable. He flexed his fingers in his gloves to keep them limber, and exchanged a sneer with Malfoy as the opening greetings were shouted and the rest of the team got into starting positions.

The Snitch was released, then Madam Hooch tossed the Quaffle up and the game was on. Harry got out of his team-mates way, one eye on Malfoy and the other on the lookout for the Snitch. It had disappeared fast this time, and he hadn't seen it yet.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams were well matched. The Slytherins might have been more inclined to foul the Gryffindor players, but Angelina was tough and smart, and she'd prepared the team well, working them in pairs and through strategies to cope with anything the other teams might come up with.

Thirty minutes in, Gryffindor was leading by 20 points. They'd gotten a couple of free foul shots, courtesy of Madam Hooch and the Slytherin Chasers fouling the Gryffindor ones. No one had been seriously hurt yet, but Harry had ducked a couple of Bludgers, and he had a feeling the Slytherin Beaters were watching for a chance to knock him out of the game. Not that he cared much. He was confident he could handle anything they or Malfoy could try to dish out.

Twenty minutes and seven goals (4 Gryffindor, 3 Slytherin) later, he spotted a flash of gold, up near the teacher's stands. Draco didn't look like he'd spotted it yet, too busy sneering at Harry. Harry sneered back, then followed the strategy Angelina had suggested. He let his eyes widen, then dove straight into the middle of the game, as if he'd seen the Snitch among the players.

Draco followed him of course. Draco always did. Harry smirked to himself and dove right under where Alicia Spinnet was racing for the goal with the Quaffle, narrowly ducking a Bludger and two Slytherin Chasers as he did so. One of the Chasers tried to block him, but Harry rolled out of the way, twisting in a hard corkscrew around the little group.

Draco wasn't so lucky. Harry heard a shout of frustration, and the thud of a midair collision. He grinned. Even if Draco and the other player could stay on their brooms, they'd be hard pressed to follow him or Alicia. He whipped back into the air and around, just as the chime sounded for another Gryffindor goal.

The Snitch was still near the teacher's stand. Harry raced toward it, dodging everything in his path. Both of the Slytherin Beaters sent Bludgers at him, and the Captain of the team tried to block him, but Harry's Firebolt was more than a match for anything else on the field, and Harry was good enough to take full advantage of that fact.

He looped around to avoid another Bludger, caught a brief glimpse of Malfoy racing to catch up, then put on a burst of speed.

He snatched the Snitch out of the air between the Ravenclaw and the teacher's boxes as he passed, right as Slytherin scored another goal, and the game was over.

Harry grinned fiercely, all fears of Voldemort and Death Eaters wiped away by triumph.

This...this he could do.

 *****HS*****

Sam wasn't sure what he expected Quidditch to be like. He'd read about it, of course, as part of their cover for being wizards. Castiel, having discovered that the sport was played in the air, had expressed a mild curiosity, which for him was akin to wild excitement. Dean, of course, had vowed to avoid the whole thing as soon as he heard it involved flying.

Sam grinned as he and Castiel made their way to the seats in the teacher's box. Dean had always hated flying. A plane was bad enough, but when he'd heard about riding broomsticks, and when he'd seen the students practicing...well, it wasn't often Sam saw anything that could really faze his hunt-hardened brother. Quidditch, however, was definitely one of those things.

Honestly, Sam figured he himself wouldn't be much good at the sport. He wasn't as nervous in the air as Dean was, but he didn't much like the idea of being a hundred feet up with nothing more than a stick between him and a long fall either. Being up in the stands was enough. Still, he thought it might be interesting to watch. Besides, Castiel wanted to go, and he and Dean had privately agreed that letting Castiel out on his own among crowds was...unwise. The angel was getting better at behaving more normally, but he still slipped far more often than he should. Sam didn't mind helping out and answering Castiel's questions, but he was pretty sure their cover story would be blown if Castiel was left to his own devices.

The two of them found a seat in the very back, behind Dumbledore where there was plenty of room. Sam made sure Castiel took the corner, as much to insulate him from people as to insulate Sam from the thought of a wooden wall being the only thing between him and a two hundred foot drop.

Castiel settled in, watching quietly as the stands filled up. He remained quiet as the teams marched out onto the field and rose into the air. He even stayed quiet for the first ten minutes of the game, though Sam could see him frowning in concentration. Then he cocked his head. "The rules of this game escape me."

Sam grinned. He'd been expecting that, honestly. "Yeah, well...it's not as complicated as it looks." He pointed to the field. "That red ball those six players are passing around, it's called the Quaffle. Those six players are called Chasers. Their job is to catch the Quaffle and take it to either end of the field, then throw it through one of those three hoops." He pointed to the goal posts. "That gets them points. The two players in front of the hoops try to stop the ball from going through. They're called Keepers, because they Keep the goals safe from the opposing team." At least, that's what Sam thought it meant.

Castiel frowned. "And the black balls?"

"Those are Bludgers. They're used to try and keep the Chasers from the opposing team from getting close enough to throw the ball through the hoops." Sam pointed to where a player in green had just smacked a Bludger toward the red player carrying the Quaffle. "See, they were trying to push her off course. They can also be used to try and prevent other players from getting in the way." He pointed to where a red player with red hair had smacked a Bludger at a green player. "See?"

"Yes. I believe so."

Sam took Castiel at his word and continued. "The players who deal with the Bludgers are called Beaters. For obvious reasons." He grinned.

"Indeed. Their purpose seems largely self-explanatory." Castiel tilted his head. "However, there are two more players, and the golden ball." He started to lift a hand to point. Sam caught his hand and dragged it back down.

"Don't point. You'll cause a foul. That ball is called the Golden Snitch. It's worth a lot of points, and catching it ends the game. The last two players are called Seekers, and catching the Snitch is their job. Whoever succeeds ends the game and gets the points for his team."

Cas frowned. "That seems...redundant. Why would they do that?"

"Probably to have some clear way of designating a winner, and of ending the game." Sam shrugged. "Seekers usually win the game for their team, but not necessarily. A good set of Chasers can override the advantage. I think there was a championship game last year or the year before, where the Seeker from one team caught the Snitch, but the other team won the game." He'd done some reading on past games as well as the rules. He wasn't particularly sports oriented, but he was interested in maintaining their cover, and figured a good background knowledge wouldn't hurt. Especially since, unlike normal people, wizards only seemed to have the one sport.

"Ah." Cas turned back to the game. He watched in silence for a few moments. To anyone else, he might have looked impassive, but Sam knew him well enough to catch the faint sheen of nostalgia in his eyes.

He considered a moment, then decided they were too far up to be observed, and everyone else was too focused on the game to pay attention to them. "You play games like this in Heaven?"

"Not games. But there were strategic exercises, assessments, that were somewhat similar. Gabriel...when I was a fledgling, he would sometimes disguise our assessments as 'games'. Much more complicated than this, of course."

"Of course."

Cas hesitated, then spoke. "Though they were meant merely to test our aptitude and development in different areas, I did enjoy many of the exercises. I enjoy flying, even in the constraints of this vessel."

"Huh." It was the first time Sam had heard Cas speak of anything that he actively enjoyed, the Famine-induced fascination with burgers notwithstanding. "So...what position would you play? If you were playing this game?"

"I am considered very fast." Castiel frowned. "But all of these players seem to require speed..."

"But the fastest one would be the Seeker. So I guess that would be you." He could see it, actually. Cas as the Seeker. The intense focus needed to find a small ball in the middle of the controlled chaos of the game seemed to suit the angel. Not to mention the hand-eye coordination involved.

"Perhaps." Castiel shrugged, but Sam thought the angel might like the idea.

Sam turned back to watch the players, running through the angels he knew. "So, Gabriel would definitely have been a Beater." He couldn't picture the small archangel in any other position. Not given how he had liked to 'beat' lessons into people. "Balthazar..."

"He is quite talented at strategy and evasion." Cas spoke the words quietly, but Sam found himself amused and encouraged. It was the first time he'd ever heard Cas engage in what he considered trivial conversation.

He smirked. Dean would be amused. "So, Balthazar would probably be a Chaser?"

"It is possible. Rachel is...more protective." Cas paused. "I think she could be a...a Keeper."

The unintended (he was sure it was unintended, given Cas's absolute lack of understanding in innuendo) pun, was enough to make Sam splutter with laughter. Cas turned to give him an uncomprehending stare, and that made it worse. Sam had to look away for a moment to compose himself. He finally got himself under control. "Uh...yeah. I can see that."

Castiel was staring at him with a faintly puzzled look. "I do not understand your amusement."

If he wasn't careful he'd start laughing again. "I'll let Dean explain it to you." He was distracted by the red Seeker suddenly bursting into motion, headed right for the center of the field. "Hey, looks like something's happening."

He watched the black-haired boy, the blond from the other team hot on his heels, dive into the midst of the players. The boy was fast, ducking around three other players and a Bludger as he dove through the group. His pursuer wasn't nearly as quick, and crashed into one of his teammates. Not only did the crash stop the blond boy, but it disabled one of the other green players long enough for the girl in red holding the Quaffle to dart forward, free of the press and with a clear shot at the goal.

The black-haired boy, one he recognized from Cas's class, spun in a maneuver that would have made Dean throw up just watching, the streaked upward and toward the teacher's stand. Sam followed his trajectory, and realized the boy had seen the same thing Cas had. The Snitch.

There was a roar from the crowd, then the boy shot past and snatched the golden ball out of the air, to another roar of sound. He flew in a tight circle, waving the Snitch, as the announcer shouted. "Harry Potter has the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!" The students in red cheered, while the students in green slumped in their stands, looking unhappy even from across the field.

Sam watched as the slender young man was mobbed by his teammates, and others dressed in uniforms who hadn't played. Beside him, Castiel watched as well.

He wondered if Cas had ever been congratulated like that. He doubted it. From what he'd seen of angels, they weren't big on celebrations, or team spirit, or congratulations. Suddenly, he wanted to do something for Cas. Cas was alone, trying to sort out a war in Heaven and work with them, all at the same time. He was the only angel around too.

Sam cleared his throat. He was probably going to regret this, but… "Cas...after everyone leaves, do you want to maybe...play some?"

Cas tilted his head. "We would not have enough players..."

"Not for a Quidditch game. But we could...I don't know, toss the Quaffle back and forth. Play dodge the Bludger maybe?" That would be good for his reflex training at least. "Just...you know, play. Exercise. Get you some time up in the air, some chances to fly. I know you miss it."

Cas blinked. "Raphael..."

"We're behind wards. If he hasn't caught the Enochian you've been doing or your meetings with Balthazar, then you'll probably be fine. As long as you don't dive into Hell or make the Quaffle explode or something."

Cas frowned. "I have no reason to do either of those things."

"Then you'll be fine. If it's something you want to do, I think I can manage myself on a broom long enough to give you some exercise." Sam grinned, though he felt his stomach twisting a bit with nerves. He knew the mechanics of flying, sure, but the actual practice was something he hadn't had much of. "Just...don't let me fall off the broom, okay?"

"I would not let you fall. Dean would be angry with me." Castiel regarded him solemnly. After a moment, he looked at the field, then back at Sam. "And I would not be adverse to some exercise, provided we are cautious."

"Great. Catch it is." Sam grinned. He'd rather play catch than 'dodge the Bludger' for his first time on a broom.

The students had mostly gone back to the Castle, but the lady who'd refereed the match was still there, looking over the equipment. Sam made his way to the base of the stands, then out onto the field. "Umm…excuse me?" The woman looked up, her stare reminiscent of a hawk. Sam smiled back, using the sheepish, youthful grin that usually served him well when looking for information on hunts. "Umm...sorry. It's just...my brother and I, we were wondering if we could borrow a Quaffle and a couple of brooms. See, he used to play, and he was hoping he could practice a little. Nothing with the Snitch or anything, just...you know, toss the Quaffle back and forth."

The woman pursed her lips, looking at the two of them. Then she shrugged. "All right. But mind you don't damage my equipment. And be sure you put it back when you're done. Professor or not, if you lose my brooms or my Quidditch supplies, you'll be replacing them."

"Understood. We'll take good care of them." Sam nodded.

The woman, Madame Hooch if he recalled the introductions from the first of the year, showed him where the brooms and Quidditch gear was meant to be stored. He took the two nicest looking brooms of the lot and the Quaffle, then went back out onto the field. By now it was deserted, except for Cas. Given that it was already dusk and freezing, Sam could understand quite well why everyone else was inside. He almost regretted offering to play with Cas, but he was hardly going to back out after he'd gotten Cas to agree to relax, for a change.

Cas was waiting in the middle of the field when he returned. The angel cocked his head at the second broom. "Sam...I do not need..."

"I know." Sam cut him off. "I just brought it out so the flying teacher wouldn't get suspicious, okay? We are supposed to be pretending you're normal."

"Of course." Castiel nodded. He took the broom from Sam's hand, studying it curiously. "If you wish me to try flying on this object, I shall."

Sam sighed and looked around. The field was deserted. It was also surrounded by high walls. "No. Just fly the way you normally do. I don't think anyone can see us. And it'll probably do your wings good to stretch them a little."

Cas nodded. Sam tucked the Quaffle carefully under one arm and flipped one leg over the broomstick. He flushed, feeling a little ridiculous, then concentrated on the feeling of magic at his core, the core he'd learned to access when he'd begun working with Ruby. Then, very cautiously, he bent his knees and pushed off, as if he were jumping.

As it turned out, he pushed far too hard. Sam shot into the air, wavering madly as he scrambled to catch his balance. He dropped the Quaffle and grabbed on with both hands. His first instinct was to lean forward, but that sent the broom into a dive. Yanking back flipped it the other way. He nearly fell. Then jerked to a stop, floating in midair. He looked down.

Cas had one hand outstretched, his eyes shining in the dimness. Sam huffed out a sigh of relief. "Thanks Cas." he straightened himself out, got his balance adjusted and his feet positioned more or less in the correct places, then took a deep breath. "Okay. I think I've got it. Try letting go now."

Cas dropped his hand. The broom stayed steady in the air. Sam sat still to make sure it wasn't going to do anything unexpected, then began to move cautiously.

Twenty minutes later, he had a decent handle on the basics. As long as he didn't panic, he thought he'd be okay. At the very least, he could go up and down and turn. He doubted he'd be able to perform any of the maneuvers he'd seen the players executing earlier, but he could at least control the broom and send it where he wanted it to go.

He looked down to where Cas was waiting patiently, Quaffle in one hand. He held out his left hand, the one he felt most confident taking off the broom. "Okay. Throw it to me."

Cas did. His aim was good, and Sam caught it easily, though his broom wavered a bit in the air. He steadied himself, then looked back at the angel. "You ready?"

"Yes." Castiel cocked his head.

"Okay." Sam grinned, then tossed the Quaffle hard toward the other end of the stadium.

Cas's head snapped around, following it's path. Then the angel disappeared, reappearing in mid-air in front of the solid leather ball. He caught it in one hand, already falling, then disappeared again to reappear in the front row of a nearby set of stands. From there, he tossed the ball back at Sam. Or, more accurately, he tossed the ball thirty feet to Sam's left.

Sam grinned as he twisted and shot forward, scooping the ball out of the air. He hadn't played ball since he was a kid, playing catch with Bobby, and it was fun. Even being several feet up in the air wasn't so bad, once he knew what he was doing. He threw the ball again, watching as Cas followed the trajectory, reappeared in front of it and caught the ball, then transported himself back to a section of the stands and tossed it back.

They threw it back and forth for several minutes. It was beyond hilarious to see Cas darting around the stadium, still wearing his trench coat and suit, and Sam had a hard time controlling his laughter. But it was refreshing and it was fun, and it reminded him of the way things had been. Before the past few years. Before Stanford, back when it had been he and Dean playing around, sometimes together and sometimes with Bobby.

It had been a long time since any of them had relaxed. He wasn't sure Cas ever had relaxed, not even when he was unconscious during the fight to prevent the Apocalypse. As funny as it was to see a man in a suit and trench coat playing ball, it was also good to see the way Cas seemed to loosen up as they played. He was still intense and impassive, but his movements were smoother, his flight (what Sam could see of it), more relaxed. He looked comfortable in his vessel for the first time. And despite the simplicity of the exercise and the shortness of each hop, he really did look like he was sort of enjoying himself.

Sam finally called a halt when it became too dark for him to see clearly. He was freezing and his internal clock told him it was about dinner time. He brought the broom in for a landing, gesturing to where he thought Cas was for the angel to join him. He must have been successful, because Cas appeared beside him a moment later. Sam grinned, noticing the angel's wild hair was even messier than usual. "You have fun?"

"It was...soothing. I miss flying. It's different in this vessel, of course."

"Sure. I kind of figured." Sam rolled his shoulders, stiff from sitting on the broom. He jumped when Cas tapped him with two fingers, then sighed in appreciation as the stiffness and ache disappeared. "Thanks."

Cas frowned, then nodded. "You're welcome."

Sam smiled, then collected the unused broom and headed for the storage area. "Come on. Dean's probably wondering where we are." Cas nodded and fell into step beside him.

In the gathering dark, he didn't see the slender figure that appeared at one end of the pitch.

 *****HS*****

Harry honestly hadn't meant to take as long as he had in the shower, but even with the Warming Charms it had been bloody cold on the Pitch, and the hot water had felt good. Sure, he could have gotten the same shower back in the Tower, but he'd wanted a little time to himself. Back in the Tower, they'd be throwing a huge party to celebrate, and he wanted a bit of a breather from being mobbed. So he'd sent his mates on their way and enjoyed a good long soak, followed by liberal use of Drying Charms and Warming Charms.

He left the locker room in the dusk and decided to take a short cut through the Pitch to get back tot he Castle faster. He only made it as far as the door though, before he stopped.

The Professors Winchester were still there, the two who'd come to the game, at least. It looked like Castiel and Sam. Professor Castiel Winchester was standing on the Pitch holding a Quaffle, while above him Sam Winchester was doing slow glides and turns. He looked awkward, like he'd never been on a broom before.

Harry watched the taller professor circle around a bit before coming to a hover above his own. Sam Winchester gestured, and Castiel threw him the Quaffle. He caught it awkwardly with one hand. Then he threw it toward the other end of the Pitch, with a throw worthy of any Chaser.

And Castiel disappeared. Harry's hand clenched on his Firebolt in shock. Then he had to catch himself against the door-frame as Castiel appeared in midair, grabbed the Quaffle and disappeared again, to reappear in the Ravenclaw stands. He threw the Quaffle back.

Harry watched as Sam Winchester caught the Quaffle, then launched it in a completely different direction. And, once again, Castiel Winchester disappeared, reappeared in midair, caught the ball, and vanished to appear again, this time in the Hufflepuff stands.

Harry watched the strange back-and-forth for several minutes, his mind trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

You couldn't Apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts. It was impossible. He'd learned that in his Third Year. And even if there were a way around that, he'd heard the technique required some sort of stepping motion, at least according to the twins. Not to mention, he'd never heard of silent Apparition, and he was absolutely sure Fred and George would have become experts if there were any such thing. But Castiel Winchester's disappearances and reappearances were soundless.

He'd also never heard of anyone who could (or would) Apparate into midair like that. A Portkey seemed possible, but then...why would anyone enchant a Portkey for something like that? And how? Neither of them seemed to be using incantations of any sort, and he didn't see any object that could be a Portkey, unless Castiel had somehow charmed his clothes. But then...didn't you have to be touching a Portkey to activate it? Like with your hand or something? He thought that's what he remembered.

And that still left the question of the enchantment, and why anyone would waste that kind of magic on a simple game of catch. Besides, there was something about the whole thing, about the smoothness of Castiel Winchester's movements, that was just uncanny, even in a world of magic.

Harry ducked out of sight as Sam Winchester landed back on the Pitch. It was so dark he could hardly see, and he didn't think his professors could either. Surprisingly, neither of them used a Lumos. Instead, Harry watched as the dim outlines of the two men made their way to the Quidditch storage area. Only when they were gone did he emerge, to race across the pitch and towards Hogwarts Castle.

He couldn't wait to tell Hermione and Ron what he'd seen. He just hoped one of them would have a better explanation than he'd been able to produce.

 _ **Author's Note:** Uh-oh...Cas got caught...not that Harry knows what it is he's seen..._

 _So, a little fun for our boys. Next up...Harry wants training. Sam's getting some instruction on the subtle science of Potions...and Dean is learning magic._


End file.
